Callous
by Randirogue
Summary: Yes, I've actually updated! Ch. 10 - The tape! 'She stared straight at the screen with intensity as pricking and sharp as hot razor tipped needles.' A different kind of after 'Day of Reckoning' story. They've all been rescued, but what is Rogue hiding?
1. Prologue and Author's Notes

**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to Marvel. Only the original ideas contained within this work is the property of the author. No infringement is intended as this is a written for fun and without profitable gain.

**Setting-Universe:** Set in the Evolution universe, a couple months after the two Day of Reckoning episodes and after the rescue of Rogue, Evan, Hank, Fred, and Wolverine. It strays vastly from where the third season will likely go.

**Summary:** A different kind of After 'Day of Reckoning' story. They've all been rescued, but what is Rogue hiding? What happened while imprisoned by Trask? While trying to breach Rogue's callous veneer (which has thickened since the events that took place during her imprisonment), the X-Men and the BoM try to survive the growing public hysteria surrounding mutants and a devious plan wielded by some big time villains.

**Reviews: **Please, please post reviews on . They are very, very much welcome. I like to be publicly praised and critiqued. It can help other readers understand the story as well.

**Acknowledgments: **I take a lot of character history and inspiration from the comics and other fan fictions, unless it absolutely clashes with what I've seen in the Evolution cartoon. Fan fiction references likely to come from **Lori McDonald** (specifically Looking at a Woman, and Thick as Thieves which is co-authored w/ Valerie Jones), **Valerie Jones** (co-authored Thick as Thieves, unfinished but unbelievably good Blind Sight, and the Betrayal arc), and **Ruby Lis** (End of Innocence and Scars).

**Rated** **PG 13:** This is a serious story and deals with subject matters that are intended for the maturity levels of teenagers and higher. Language is relatively mild and gratuity level of violence and sexual instances will NOT be explicit, but enough will be told so that the reader knows what has occurred. The focus is on the consequences of these things, how they effect the character's lives, and not on the violence (etc.) itself.

**T****ime line:** This story jumps in time with memories and because well, sometimes events have more impact when revealed out of order. To help keep track, I include an updated time line at the bottom of every chapter.

**Author Trivia:** I lived in Bayville as a baby and toddler. My grandmother lives there to this day.

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**Callous**

**Prologue**

In a small town in upstate Maine, a warehouse was in rubble. A construction crew had cleared away all the debris and another crew was beginning construction on a new building to take its place. Plaster, glass, concrete, steel, and wood were easy to throw away, never to be revisited again. The memories of what had occurred in that warehouse could not be so easily forgotten.

Like in all small towns, rumors had spread that mutants were involved in the warehouse's destruction. Ever since the startling live news broadcast two months ago, mutants had come to take the blame for every little thing. The media proclaimed that the destruction of this particular warehouse had nothing to do with mutant activity. They proclaimed that the federal government owned building had been demolished as it had been scheduled to be. Still, the rumors spread, as rumors do when people are frightened that their kids will be endangered, that their money could be threatened, that their kids would manifest the strangeness themselves, that they might be accused of being a mutant. Or almost as bad, they might be accused of being a mutant sympathizer!

Another small town, this one on Long Island in the state of New York, called Bayville, was undergoing the most significant change of the entire country. It too had undergone a social uprising full of fear and paranoia immediately following the news broadcast. In so many ways, theirs were the worst transformation, the worst bout of paranoia in the entire country, since most of the town's residents personally recognized the many teenagers that were seen wielding strange and awesome powers. In fact, most of the participants in the fight that the local traffic reporter had filmed went to their very own Bayville High School.

Two of the students above all the others stood out the most. One was noticeable because of her popularity and for being known as a star player of the school's girls' soccer team. Her name was Jean Grey and she was even dating the star football player of the team. They were the typical homecoming king and queen types… turned into characters from Stephen King's _Carrie_. The other student held notoriety because she was the least popular student in the school… well, not even that classified her correctly. They all knew who she was; they just didn't associate with her. She was the school's outcast, the different one, the strange one… the Goth girl. She was Rogue. When her face appeared, everybody sighed and whispered, "I knew there was something wrong with her." But for Jean, for Jean, they had gasped and at first thought, "Poor girl!" But, like with Rogue, they soon whispered hateful things to one another about Jean being a freak. At least Jean had had a moment of pity before the hate filtered in. They all had seen Rogue captured, and still their pity for her was absent.

It didn't take long for the residents to put two and two together. Kids talked, parents questioned, and the connection was made to the Institute. In short order, calls were placed to police and media venues and even to state and federal agencies, and the X-Men's home, their "base of terrorist activities," as news broadcasts had proclaimed, was turned in. Three days following the initial broadcast, the Institute was rushed by armed forces. Everything found had been confiscated as evidence. Only the lower levels had been free of the raid. Somehow, it had been overlooked. But, what good were a war room, a danger room, a Cerebro room, and a hanger bay to a group of kids no older than eighteen with only one adult among them. It was all that saved them from being captured as well. It's what helped them find and rescue Xavier, and what helped them find and rescue their captured teammates and friends. It saved their lives.

That was the first transformation the town of Bayville had gone through, the transformation into scared sheep that suddenly couldn't think for themselves, but thought as a public singularity… for the most part. That transformation wasn't the most impressive one, though. The most impressive one—the one that had set it apart from nearly the rest of the country—well, _that_ transformation went unnoticed by every person that had undergone it. As they were forced to forget that they ever saw mutants fighting against a Sentinel and soldiers, they also forgot that they forgot. It had been Xavier's doing, and he wasn't proud of it. Not at all.

That forgetfulness allowed them the time to heal physical injuries and to work at rebuilding what the self-destruct had practically demolished. Unlike the site of the warehouse in upstate Maine, there was no construction crew on this one. The X-Men themselves worked hard at reconstructing the building. They were trying to make it their institute again, a haven for learning and socializing. They were trying to make it a mansion again, a place of elegance and worth and luxury… a place for extravagance… to match the extravagance of its inhabitant's potential. Their worthiness resided much in their being accepted and maybe even envied a little. People tended to want to be the type of people who lived in mansions. Maybe, their residing in a mansion would help their image a little when the mutant leak spread through Bayville once again. And it would, to a very small extent, to those who were on the edge of sympathizing with them already. However, they didn't even try to lie to themselves that the town wouldn't turn against them again… eventually. It would happen. It was just a matter of time. Mostly, though in their rebuilding of the mansion, they were trying to make it a home again.

It was slow going.

Most of them had worked on the construction in relative quietness. The sounds of hammering and sawing and the like often drowned out conversation and laughter. The physical act of rebuilding their home mirrored the rebuilding of themselves and their bonds and their relationships. They lumbered from one task to the next, shoulders slumped, muscles sore, and motivations hesitant because of the weight of coping. Coping… it was a palpable thing, so swollen and massive, the atmosphere was heavy with it. Like the oxygen they breathed, it was necessary to their survival. But the real coping occurred when in the moments that it appeared that that they needed it the least. It occurred when the conversation and laughter drowned out everything else.

Sometimes, the brotherhood members joined the X-Men in the rebuilding, but mostly they joined in the cooperative coping. In more ways than one, the brotherhood members were peers. In just as many ways, these outsiders were enemies—were lesser than the X-Men--so it was a brave thing they did in assisting the rebuilding, in offering a helping hand. Brave indeed, since the favor was never returned for their home, which was in dire need of repairs. For a second time—or was it third time now—they only had each other to depend on. They had no generous, wealthy founder to provide maintenance for their home, food in their kitchen, clothes on their bodies, and stability for their environment. They would never admit it, but the help they provided for the Institute's rebuilding, was really a selfish thing they were doing for themselves. While there, they were provided with the things that their own home lacked… things they would never ask for nor accept in an act of charity. They were the Brotherhood _(of Mutants, aka the BoM)_ and they didn't need anything from the X-Men.

One thing some of the BoM members would admit to, though, was the concern that some of them felt for certain members of the X-Men and each other. Lance, of course, wanted to check on Kitty, and wanted to make sure her home was in a livable condition. Tabby wanted the girl-talk and she wanted to flirt with Kurt and make sure he was doing well. Fred… well, honestly, Fred wanted the food. And he wanted to do something in return for being rescued. He didn't want them being able to hold that over his head. He'd been the only brotherhood member that had been captured and he was still amazed and shy around the X-Men who had helped the Brotherhood rescue him… and the others too, of course… but that didn't change that they had rescued _him_.They didn't even _like_ him.

Todd, though, was merely content with the semblance of friendship that had sort of grown amongst them all. Suddenly, he'd gained over a dozen new protectors, even if it was limited, and there were times when they'd seemed to target him as the butt of their jokes. And granted, those were usually when he was grossing them all out. But, even those times were fun. It was teasing… It was like friendship. And, that changed him. Out of everyone, he'd gained the most healing from all that had happened. Ironically, because of the traumatic events that had brought them together—sort of, sometimes—Todd had grown more of a backbone since that day and had begun acting like Jamie's big brother. Not many people noticed, but Lance had. And maybe Scott, Jubilee, Sam, Rahne, and Xavier had, too. They had seemed to keep a closer eye on Jamie than the others… Rahne especially. But nobody said anything. They just smiled quiet smiles when they caught sight of Todd trying to keep Jamie in good humor.

As for the rest of the brotherhood… Pietro wanted to make sure that Evan, his long time rival was up to par, so that their petty competitions would be worthwhile. At least that was his outward and very verbal excuse. But Scott, Lance, Fred, Bobby, Kurt, Kitty, Jean and Wanda had figured out other reasons for Pietro's sudden willingness to work with the X-Men. Pietro was Wanda's sole reason for participating. She no longer trusted Xavier like she had before Mystique removed her from the institute. A part of her harbored resentment for his having had been able to cloud their minds and free her, yet hadn't because it went against his ideals_. He did it for his precious X-Men so they could walk around the town, though, didn't he?_ That was a constant twitch in her thoughts, as was her distrust for Pietro. Wanda went anywhere Pietro went, since the discovery of his involvement with their father, Magneto. Well, not everywhere… but pretty darn close. If he was doing something with someone that was even sometimes the enemy… then it was a sure bet that she'd be there—when he hadn't escaped her with his speed—watching and waiting for just one sign or real proof that he was betraying them once again. And she wasn't alone in this. The other Brotherhood members were keeping a close eye on him at Fred's insistence. They weren't sure why Fred was adamant about it, but Lance agreed to it, figuring it had something to do with the events that had occurred during the imprisonment, something to do with a particular member of the opposite team that Pietro had been giving a lot of attention to…

Rogue… now there was a solitary figure if ever there was one. Wanda was quite curious with her. Not only had Pietro been eyeing Rogue to a disturbing degree… And not only did the other members of the BoM speak of Rogue in an intriguing mixture of distaste, regret, and fondness… But Rogue seemed to be as hard and closed off as Wanda, herself, was. The only problem, though, was that Rogue actually seemed to be less social than Wanda was. Wanda never saw her help much with the construction. When she did see her, it was only a glimpse here or there, far off, and away from all the others.

Rogue… Her name had been the whispers on a lot of people's lips over the last few months. Yes, her teammates were concerned for her. Yes, her former teammates were concerned for her. Yes, she was even more closed off than before she and Hank and Evan and Fred and Wolverine had been captured. But in locked rooms, on classified reports, on test tube labels, and in the thoughts of devils of many kinds, floated her name. Experiments were only half accomplished. Plans were yet to be fulfilled. Bonds were yet to been solidified. And she, not she alone, but she was apart of them all.

Rogue… She thought it best to keep the others out of it. That would be safest for them. The less they knew, the less they would try to stir up… Which meant, that more dust would collect on her files and on the test tubes, and fewer times her name would feather the lips and thoughts of devils, and eventually, she would be forgotten. And that,_ that,_ meant they wouldn't come for her here, amongst those she cared for most.

Rogue… She kept to herself. She had a thick skin. She could take the isolation. She had to do it anyway. And the longer she lived with the gnawing, chaffing, and scraping effects of the entire ordeal, the thicker her skin became… the tougher it became… the more resilient she became. In no time, she'd been callused… calloused.

But did her hardened, thickened skin mean she was insensitive, indifferent, and unsympathetic?

Rogue… She hoped so. She thought it would be best.

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_Thank you for reading. I'm so terribly honored that so many of you enjoy this story so much._

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**TIME LINE**

**_0 days_:** DAY OF RECKONING. 1st news broadcast of mutants. Rogue, Logan, Fred, and Hank are captured.

**_3 days_:** RAID ON THE INSTITUTE. Described briefly in prologue.

**_42 days_** (6 weeks): RESCUE. Mentioned briefly in prologue.

**_56 days_** (8 weeks): PROLOGUE. It is revealed that Xavier changed the memories of Bayville inhabitants to make them forget that the X-Men and Brotherhood were the mutants involved in the news broadcast of the giant Sentinel attack.


	2. Chapter 01 Teaser

**Callous **

**Chapter 01 – Teaser**

Two and a half months following the 'Day of Reckoning'…

Rogue rubbed her thumb over her other fingertips, feeling for the rough patches that had once been there before she had to wear gloves all the time. Now her hands were smooth as satin from being protected from the elements by gloves. All the time. They didn't used to be this soft and smooth. They used to be rough and calloused from climbing trees and playing sports. She used to be a tomboy, but now she was a mutant. More than that. A mutant mutant. A freak among freaks. She wore an armor of clothing on her body, an armor or make-up on her face, and an armor of rancor, a bitchy hands-off disposition on her personality. She layered the trendy façade of Goth on top of it all. The Gothic façade kept away the squeamish people, prevented them from even bothering with her, from even trying to get anywhere close to her.

She was the pariah [1]. She was the power-vampire. She was the thought-thief. She was the Rogue [2].

_Was ah a tomboy? Was that me? Or someone ah absorbed? _Rogue sighed and put her glove back on. It was hot out and the gloves were making her hands clammy, but she couldn't take the risk, not even sitting outside by herself as she was. _What's the point of worrying about it? Either way, it's part of who ah am now._

She was sitting on the ground, leaning back against a gnarled, sprawling tree_. Good climbing tree. _ Her backpack sat beside her, to her left. A vampire novel lay open on her lap, though it was being ignored as she was consumed with her thoughts.

School was over for the day, but she didn't feel like heading back to the Institute. It was still being rebuilt and, therefore, was a constant reminder of that day, that fight, and all that happened afterwards. She was dealing with the memories of that fight with Magneto and his newly formed team better than she was dealing with what happened while she'd been captured and even better than she was dealing with the new ghosts in her head and the new powers coursing through her. She didn't talk about these things with the other X-Men. They wouldn't understand. They couldn't see what the big deal was. She'd absorbed people before, so why would this be any different? Well, simply put, the ghosts were permanent now, just like their powers. The latter was all that the team seemed to care about. They all thought her new powers were soooo cool. That she was soooo lucky.

_Yeah, right._

So she didn't try to talk to them about it. She didn't bother even bringing it up. She didn't even have Jean or the Professor's telepathic probes picking up on them. That part, they all knew about. And boy was she grateful for it. It was one of the added benefits of all the added powers and ghosts inside her. Jean and the Professor couldn't mind-scan her any more. No telepath could, as far as any of them figured. Even telepathic communication, you know mind-talk, was next to impossible if she didn't help them along, let them in. The rest of the mind shielding was beyond her control, though. Just like her absorption powers. It was ON all the time.

So, everyone at the institute knew about four of her new abilities:

One, she had superhuman strength. She couldn't disguise that fact even if she wanted to. It wasn't hard for the others to notice how she kept breaking things while she was adjusting to the feel of exerting that strength.

Second, she was well nigh invulnerable. She would've tried to hide the near-invincibility if that secret hadn't been revealed even before they'd finished rescuing her and the others. Kind of hard to keep them from noticing that she walked away without as much as a scratch on her after the entire warehouse had collapsed on her.

The third one, her immunity to telepathic probing, was outed by Jean and Xavier after they'd tried to check if she were still living when the warehouse had collapsed on her. They could sense she was there, but not what her thoughts were. Plus, they had to convince her to allow telepathic mind talk. It was like calling someone on the phone and screaming over the answering machine to get someone to pick up. Rogue was quite fond of this third ability. It was her second favorite.

Now, the fourth power, well, that one she didn't want to keep secret. That one was her absolute favorite. She liked it so much it made her feel guilty. The way she got it was not nice, not nice at all for herself, but especially not nice for the person she'd gotten it from. The fourth power the X-Men knew she'd gained was the power of flight.

Flying was the most incredible thing. She never felt as free as when she soared at supersonic speeds or lazily floated alongside the others as they were forced to merely walk or run. Even just hovering in place just out of their stretched grasps made her feel free and alive… and special. And the ability was hers without the cumbersome wings like Angel had, without the limitations of riding the winds like Storm had. Her power of flight just existed at will. The best part of her power of flight, though, was that she had almost complete control of it right from the moment she'd absorbed it. It had been the most beloved ability of the person she had been forced to absorb it from. And along with the ability, itself, and the love of the ability as well, Rogue had also absorbed the absolute control of the ability.

But there were other powers she kept secret.

So, she avoided the under construction Institute and its still recovering occupants as much as possible. She was grateful, in a guilty sort of way, that she had the excuse of the lack of privacy that the many hole-filled walls, floors and ceilings that the under construction state of the Institute granted her. She told them that she couldn't hang around inside when there were enough holes for it to be considered still outside. She would just spend her time after school hanging outside at the high school. Sometimes she went to the mall or the park, but they were crowded enough often enough to keep her from being completely comfortable. The school, however, was pretty deserted—except for the various club meetings and sports practices—after classes ended for the day. And since nobody that stayed after for those things wanted much to do with her, she was as alone as she could get nowadays.

Not that she wouldn't get enough of being alone for the rest of her life because of her powers.

The others just didn't understand. They never would. And she was tired of trying to explain it.

Always tryin' ta get me ta socialize with them. They don't get it. Ah'm a prisoner in mah own body an ah can deal with it in three ways. Ah can get depressed and give up, crawl inta a whole an' say goodbye ta the world fohevah… Or ah can give in, an not care one wit 'bout who ah absorb, who ah hurt, and find mah own pleasure in doing it… Or… Or ah can do what ah'm tryin' ta do… Ah can resolve mahself ta a solitary life. Ah can still know them, still hang out with them. But ah'm trainin' mahself to never to get too close… to never allow the opportunity for a chance accidental brush of skin.

But nobody made this easier on her. They made it more painful with each invitation and with each plea for companionship… Especially since they all flinch… Just like she does.

Her white striped hair whipped across her face from the short burst of wind that signaled Pietro's approach. He stopped on her right side, opposite where her backpack was. His arms were crossed across his chest. He wore a matching 'I'm-de-bomb' smirk and 'I'm-de-bomb' glimmer in his ice blue eyes. One foot was crossed lazily over the other foot as he leaned his shoulder against the tree so that he was looming over her in his pose of nonchalance that still managed to demand everyone's attention on him.

Before she could acknowledge him, the speedster spoke, "Hey-Roguey-What-you-doing-Are-you-day-dreaming-of-that-guy-that-nearly-blew-you-up-with-his-cards-Forget-about-him-And-the-X-Geeks-for-that-matter-Come-back-to-the-Brotherhood-and-I'll-let-you-fantasize-about-me-all-you-want."

"Ya'll wish, Speedy," Rogue said, her surly tone contrasting to the lilt of a playful smile gracing her lips.

Pietro was arrogant and cocky and got under her skin in the worst way… and the best way. Plus, he was brash like her. The bickering banter they participated in annoyed her, challenged her, and was more fun than talking with any of the kids at the Institute. She had to admit she liked him. Heck, she wouldn't even hate admitting it. Short as it had been, her and Pietro always had fun when she lived with the brotherhood.

Rogue gestured to a group of giggling girls that huddled on the sidewalk to their right, then continued their playful teasing, "Your fan club's over there, an' if ya hadn't noticed, ah'm not with them."

Pietro looked over to where Rogue pointed. He chuckled when he saw the giggling gaggle of girls. They were congregated a few parking spaces away from where Lance's jeep was parked. The rest of Pietro's fellow Brotherhood members were waiting for Pietro at Lance's jeep. Lance was waving for Pietro to join them. Pietro's eyes twinkled mischievously with an idea. He looked to Rogue and said, rather slowly for him, though not quite normal speed, "I'll-go-ask-what-you-need-to-do-to-join. Be-right-back."

"Pietro, don't!" Rogue gasped, but she was too late. Pietro was already on his way… to the jeep. Rogue laughed quietly to herself. _The little twit tricked me!_ It amused her to watch him pass the girls, wave and wink at them, and then catch up with Lance and the others at the jeep. She continued to smile as she watched all of them, Pietro included, climb into Lance's jeep.

She turned back to her book and tried to actually read it this time. A lock of hair tickled her left cheek. She reached up to push it behind her ear. Something caught her hand, her thankfully gloved hand. She flinched with the surprising contact, but a gloved hand grasped her hand and held it in place beside her ear. She panicked and jerked her hand away. She expected her superhuman strength would've yanked the assailant tumbling to the ground beside her, but he let go of her hand instead. It slapped against her knee from the force of her yanking it away. She was about to whip her head around to face her assailant when his warm breath tickled her ear and neck. She froze, her panic doubled.

He's too close. He's too close. He's too close.

"Y' can do better dan him, chere," whispered Gambit's husky accented voice as he trailed a playing card behind her ear, down her neck, to her collar, and then dropped into her lap.

Suspecting the card was charged to explode—though it wasn't—Rogue launched herself to the side and then up and away from him. The motion only took a split second and it ended with her hovering a foot off the ground.

She faced her assailant. Gambit stood there, facing her, with a suave and relaxed confidence. He was standing behind and beside her backpack, just to the left of where she had just been sitting only a moment before. He was half hidden by the tree she'd been sitting against, giving away the fact that, while Pietro had been talking to her, he'd been concealing himself there, upwind of her, and keeping the tree between him and her and Pietro.

Her eyes met his ruby on onyx eyes, which revealed his surprise at her quick movement and her ability of flight.

"It's you!" Rogue gasped loud enough for the Brotherhood members to hear from where they sat in Lance's jeep waiting in the line of cars for their chance to pull out from the parking lot and onto the street.

_Huh? Rogue?_ Pietro wondered as he turned and saw Rogue, using her flight powers in public, facing the very guy he had just teased her about. They didn't look to be on friendly terms at the moment, though.

Gambit's surprise flickered away an instant after it'd arrived. It was replaced by a flash in his ruby on onyx eyes and a dazzling devil-may-care grin. He bore the wickedly seductive expression into her. He was using his charm powers.

Rogue's breath caught as she felt him using it. She felt him attacking her like he had when they fought the first time. It was similar to what it felt like when Jean or Xavier now tried to scan her mind… yet it was different. She felt the same excitement tingling in her, but instead of just feeling it in her head, she felt it in her stomach and chest as well. It was like being anxious and scared and getting butterflies in her stomach. But that was all that had happened. She got the tingling sensation, but didn't lose herself in his gaze like last time. His charm powers didn't work on her any more than Jean or Xavier's telepathy did.

Rogue's eyes narrowed into a glare and she floated in closer to him, just outside his reach. She growled, "What're ya doin' here?"

A grimace was his only response. No one had ever effectively eluded his charm power before. In fact, he'd used it on her the first time they fought and it had worked just fine then. Of course, he seemed to have been glued to her, as well, that first time. _Hehe, de femme charmed y' too, hein? She's definitely easy on de eyes, dis one, neh?_ The thought lightened his mood and drew out his devil-may-care grin again.

A whoosh of air and the sudden appearance of Pietro beside Rogue stole the grin away once more, though.

"What'sgoingonRoguey?" Pietro asked while glaring at Gambit. He'd said it so fast Rogue compared it a fly's buzz at her ear and instinctively waved a hand in annoyance to force the buzz away.

Gambit met Pietro's gaze then moved it to the other Brotherhood members that were rushing up to join them. Rogue and Pietro followed his change of attention, looking behind them to see Lance, Fred, Tabitha, and Todd hopping and jogging up to them.

"What's he doing here, yo?" Todd asked. Gambit was getting quite bored with the originality of these people's questions. Their continual interruption annoyed him more, though.

"Ah was tryin' ta find that out mahself, ya'll," Rogue answered.

"Anot'er time, chere," Gambit said, drawing their attention back to him. She turned to face him, only to find that he was gone.

Pietro sped off to search for him. Rogue took to the air to look for him as well. She concealed herself from the students that were still making their way off campus by using the tree's upper gnarled and sprawling branches for camouflage. She hoped that if anyone did see her up there they would think she was just climbing the tree. She'd rather have them think she was weird and childish—it wasn't any worse than most of the students thought anyway—than let them know of her powers. Xavier had gone through the trouble of erasing the memory of the X-Men and Brotherhood's being revealed as mutants from everyone at the school. He had sacrificed his ideals in doing that and she couldn't just ruin his sacrifice right then and there by showing her mutant powers to everyone. She'd only just gotten back to attending classes that week.

A whoosh of air and Pietro appeared below Rogue with the others. "I-couldn't-find-him-I-don't-know-how-he-got-away-so-fast-Nobody's-as-fast-as-the-Speed-Demon," Pietro said, talking slower than the beat of a fly's wings, but still faster than most people. He looked up to Rogue, who was still hovering in the top of the tree, and asked, "What-about-you-Roguey?"

She didn't answer. She stared off in the distance at nothing, really, just searching.

"Hello? Rogue?" Tabitha said sarcastically.

"Demon… He has eyes like a demon," Rogue whispered, not realizing she'd spoken aloud.

"He's a what, yo?" Todd asked as he hopped up to a branch much lower that the ones at the top that Rogue was hovering in.

"Huh? …" Rogue, remembering that they were there, asked. "Oh… it's nothing. He has red on black eyes, is all," she said trying to make it sound unimportant. She lowered herself to the ground and Todd hopped down as well.

"Did you see where he went?" Lance asked.

"No…" Rogue said, still a little dazed from what had happened. She shook her head trying to clear thoughts of him from her mind.

"Are-you-okay?" Pietro asked in his half-speed.

"Ah'm fahne," Rogue said trying to make it sound harsh like it usually would sound, but failing.

"Hey, this one didn't explode," Tabitha announced as she picked up the card Gambit had dropped in Rogue's lap earlier. She looked at it and smirked as she held it up for all of them to see. "Ace of hearts," she said, handing it to Rogue, "Think it means anything?"

"Yeahright," Pietro said, imitating a fly's wing buzz again, but with a slight sneer, "Joker,morelike."

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Ruby irises glowed in their onyx orbs, piercing through the shadows of the dense branches and leaves of a nearby tree. The Diable Blanc those eyes belonged to was crouched in agile ease on perilously thin branches that could barely hold his weight. He was located very high in the not-so-good-climbing-tree. The tree was very tall, wiry, with frail looking branches that reached no lower than seven and a half feet from the ground, and it was dense with clusters of leaves.

No, it wasn't a good climbing tree at all. No one would've thought to look for him in it. In fact, none of them had. That was precisely why he chose that spot. From there, he could watch the one called Rogue and her enemy-friends without being seen.

He watched for a long while.

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_Thank you for reading._

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**Footnotes:**

[1] Pariah: 1. Outcast. 2. Any person or animal that is generally despised or avoided.

[2] Just in case you didn't know the actual definition of this noun… Rogue: 1. A dishonest person; scoundrel. 2. A playfully mischievous person; scamp. 3. A tramp (not the slutty kind) or vagabond.

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**TIME LINE**

**_0 days_:** DAY OF RECKONING. 1st news broadcast of mutants. Rogue, Logan, Fred, and Hank are captured.

**_3 days_:** RAID ON THE INSTITUTE. Described briefly in prologue.

**_42 days_** (6 weeks): RESCUE. Mentioned in prologue. X-Men discover that Rogue has new permanent powers that allowed her to survive the warehouse collapsing on her and prevents Jean and Xavier from reading her mind (Ch. 1).

**_56 days_** (8 weeks): PROLOGUE. It is revealed that Xavier changed the memories of Bayville inhabitants to make them forget that the X-Men and Brotherhood were the mutants involved in the news broadcast of the giant Sentinel attack.

**_70 days_** (10 weeks): CHAPTER ONE. Rogue's 1st week back to school. Pietro tries to rescue Rogue from the dastardly Remy, who has so evilly trailed the Queen of Hearts card on her cheek. How horrible of him!


	3. Chapter 02 Clammy

**Callous**

**Chapter 02 – Clammy**

Wolverine finished the last of his can of beer and tossed it in the trash. He was tired and sweaty and actually a little worn out.

_Rebuildin' the Institute is more exertin' than fightin' a dozen drones in the danger room_. He caught site of a student coming up the drive and he huffed. _Especially when a certain kid whose new super strength would be mighty helpful in the rebuildin' keeps avoidin' this place as though Sabretooth were bunkin' here._

By the time he reached for a second beer out of the refrigerator, that certain kid entered the kitchen and stopped short.

Wolverine closed the refrigerator and sniffed the air as he faced her. Her scent was a bit disconcerting. He smelled fear on her, though it was at least an hour old. Anxiety, that was fresher. The Brotherhood, they were fainter—_Not like any o' 'em could touch her, though, so that's not surprising_—and their scent was an hour old at least, too. And someone else too. Wolverine couldn't place the last person's scent, though it was familiar to him too. That scent worried him. It was a male scent and it was stronger than the brotherhood's, about as old as theirs were too, so that meant whoever this other guy was, he'd gotten a lot closer to her.

_She don't seemed too upset about it, whoever he was, whatever had happened_—he popped open the beer—_Not like she'd talk 'bout it anyway. The girl's shut tighter than a frightened clam_—he took a few gulps, drinking down half the can—_Even more so since we got rescued._

The rescue… That, he remembered… sort of. The stuff in between his being captured and the rescue was all but gone. What was there was fuzzy. And there wasn't much of it. The rescue, though, that was a bit clearer.

The memory of the rescue began with a voice that had spoken in his head. The voice had said, _~"—ake up… Logan, wake up…Logan…"~_

The voice had indeed woken him up. It had woken him, and was quickly replaced by the sounds of a battle taking place somewhere outside where he was. He was on an examining table in what felt like an examining room. It was cold and sterile feeling, with just a hint of maniacal thrown in. The maniacal came from the sounds inside the room itself. The interior of the room was quiet, not as quiet as a tomb, but quiet nonetheless. There was the faint static buzz of electronic and computerized equipment, the beeping of heart and other such monitors, and the sound of people breathing. There was his breathing yes, but there was the very quiet feathering sound of someone other than him breathing, but just barely. He also got the sense of someone else holding their breath, trying to keep from being heard as they made some sort of struggle. His grogginess was great enough that he couldn't distinguish where the breathing noises came from. Part of him even wondered if they were even real. They were so quiet. The battle noises from outside broke the quiet here and there. It just all seemed so eerie.

He could feel his body, stiff and groggy from sleep, as he lay on the cold metal table. There was a pinch in both his arms he soon recognized. Surgical tubing, attached to needles were stuck in both his arms, were draining him of blood. Not a whole lot. But enough to make him woozy despite his healing factor. That's when he noticed the heavy, cold weight around his neck.

Collar! They put a damn collar on me!

He growled as he ripped the needles out of his arms and tried to lift his head up. The room spun a bit, so he laid his head back down and held his hands to his head trying to steady himself.

_Must've taken more blood than I thought. _

He looked to his arms, to where the needles had been, and saw that blood was trailing from the small holes the needles had left.

Huh?!

He hadn't healed the tiny wounds?

He felt the collar around his neck and noticed that a light was blinking on it. He yanked on it, but he didn't have any effect on it. He popped his claws. Well… he thought he popped his claws. He looked accusingly at his hands and tried again. Nothing happened. That's when he made the connection. Collar… no healing… Collar… no claws…

Suppression collars…

His vision finally cleared… as did his wooziness. The groggy, fuzzy feel to his thoughts remained, though. He looked to his left. There was a row of metal surgical tables in line with his. Three were on his left side, to be exact. The one on the end was empty, but the other two were not. The one directly beside him held a blond woman whom he felt a faint familiarity towards, but couldn't place. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, about 5' 7", and in decent shape. She was very pale, unnaturally bluish pale. Her blue eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, and empty looking. She had tubes coming out of both her arms just like he had, but there wasn't much motion of the blood through them. He didn't need any more evidence to know she was dead. That realization hurt a little. He had known her, he didn't know how well he'd known her, but he had known her and now she was dead. He tried really hard to remember anything about her, but his head was too foggy.

_Like before… Up in Canada… with the spooks… when ya woke up in the liquid filled chamber._

_~"They drugged ya…"~_ said the voice in his head. The voice was familiar, much more familiar than the dead blonde woman on the table directly to his left. Still, his head was too foggy to make the connection to the voice. And there was something wrong with the voice, too. Something different about they way it should've sounded to him.

He shook his head again. He'd worry about it later, when he could think straight.

The table after the one that held the dead blonde woman held a second dead blonde woman. She had all the same telltale signs of the first dead blonde: blood tubes, but only in one arm, unnaturally bluish pale skin, open lifeless blue eyes. The second one was a little younger than the first one. The second one was probably in her late teens or early twenties. Her hair was shorter and was more of a platinum blonde. Her features were sharper and a bit more feminine, too. Also, she had a better body, he noticed with a faint silent chuckle. It wasn't hard to notice that since she was wearing a white halter-top, which left very little to the imagination. He immediately felt guilty for his appreciation of her body, though. He felt he was being rude for having the instinctive, hormonal recognition of her. She was dead, after all.

_~"We will be too, if ya don't get us outta these things,"~ _the voice said inside his head.

_~"Jean?"~_ He asked inside his head as the name popped into it. She was a telepath, he remembered. But he couldn't put a face to the name or the ability, or why the idea of his knowing a telepath or even communicating with one right then didn't unsettle him. His head was still too foggy.

_~"It's the drugs and ah'm not Jean."~_

_~"Who are ya, then?"~_ He asked as he tried to turn his head to the right. Something told him the voice came from that side. However, his head clanged against a metal brace of some sort, so he couldn't look over there.

_~"Logan, please,"~_ The voice pleaded_. ~"Someone will be back any minute. You're not strapped down. Help us… Help me."~_

He wasn't restrained, he realized as he looked back to the woman on his left and saw that metal straps were clamped around her head, wrists and ankles. He lifted his hands up just to make sure. Didn't matter that he'd already known that since he'd pulled out the tubing. It wasn't until he looked at his hands specifically that he really realized they weren't clamped in. Neither were his ankles. He looked to the metal object that kept him from turning his head to the right. Sure enough, it was a clamp that was supposed to fit over his head. It was only half closed, like whoever had put him there was compelled to leave before they finished strapping him in. Or maybe they were about to remove him from the room? He did have the tubes in him when he woke up. Why would someone put the tubes in BEFORE restraining him? He had been drugged so it wasn't a totally insane idea for them to have released the restraints before taking out the tubes. And the drugs were wearing off without the help of his healing factor after all, right?

How could he remember his powers and remember the logic surrounding restraining a prisoner, yet not much else?

He heard the sounds of the battle outside get louder. There was a small explosion that rattled the walls. The fighting was getting closer.

_~"That's why they left, but they'll be back, so hurry,"~ _the voice pleaded again. Logan pushed the head clamp out of his way and wondered why the sound of that voice in his head like that, through telepathy, seemed wrong, like it shouldn't be possible.

He got up and immediately saw why. He knew the person on the table to his immediate right and that wasn't her power. He couldn't remember her name, but he knew that she wasn't telepathic, at least she wasn't supposed to be. She looked to be about sixteen, was fairly thin and wiry—in a lithe sort of way—had short, tousled red-brown hair with a shock of white framing her face; and she had piercing emerald green eyes [1]. For some reason, her lack of makeup seemed odd to him, though he couldn't remember why. Just like the others, her head, wrists and ankles were clamped, and there were tubes coming out of her arms. However, unlike the others, she was very much alive. She was struggling against the clamps and she seemed to be the slightest bit hovering above the table, just as much as the clamps allowed for. That's when he looked to her neck and saw that she didn't have a collar on.

"C'mon, already, Logan!" She snapped at him, this time out loud.

He moved to her and released the clamps. As soon as she was free, she ripped the tubing out of her arms with hardly a wince. She floated up from the table and then down beside him. She didn't stand, however; she just hovered a few inches from the ground.

"What the?!" he exclaimed.

She shushed him by placing a finger against her lips. "Later, Logan," she whispered. "We gotta get outta here now."

Her eyes moved to the collar around his neck and she reached for it. He flinched. He couldn't remember why he flinched, though.

"Ah'm wearin' gloves, see," she said and waved her gloved hands in front of him for emphasis.

He realized, then, that she was dressed differently than everyone else, him included. While he and the others were wearing what seemed to be their own, albeit dirty and rank, clothing, she was wearing a solid black body suit that covered her poisonous skin from neck, to wrists, to ankles. There were yellow and red patterns and numbers on her arms and legs. Plus, there were open flaps on the arms of the body suit, giving their captors access for the tubing. There were also flaps on the backs of the legs of the body suit, too. He could just see a hint of those, from where the slits reached around to the sides of her legs. There were some red patterns around those slits too.

He managed not to flinch the second time she reached for his collar.

CRACK! She'd snapped it like a dry twig. Wolverine raised an eyebrow at that one. He couldn't bend it and she broke it like it was nothing.

"Late—" She began to brush off the explanation he so obviously wanted, but he didn't let her finish.

He grabbed her arm, careful of the open flaps, and held her there, and said, "No, now Ro…" He couldn't remember her name exactly. But his powers were slowly returning—feeling like pins and needles—and his head was clearing up more. He knew her name started with an R and an O, but that was all. He tried to ignore that part and said, "Spill it."

"They made me absorb some people," she spat out like it should be explanation enough. He didn't know why, but he took it like it really was all that needed to be said.

She then turned away from him and rushed for the last table in the room. It was on the other side of the table she'd been strapped to.

"Why couldn't ya get out o—," he started to ask as he followed her movement to the last table with his eyes. What he saw on that table accounted for his sudden loss of speech. What he saw startled him enough that he no longer even cared to find out why she couldn't break free of the clamps when she could so easily break his collar.

Evan. The name was like a stab in his gut. He was remembering even more with the slow return of his healing factor now that the suppression collar was back, but he almost wished he hadn't. The recognition of the name Evan was quickly followed by the name Rogue. He now remembered that Rogue was the name of the girl that shouldn't be able to talk telepathically, defy gravity like she was doing, nor be strong enough to break the collar like it was just a dry twig.

Evan. It was Evan on that final table. He was strapped down on it. His eyes were closed. He was very still. Tubes came out of only one of his arms, the way it had been with the second dead blonde.

"He's still alive… barely. He was the last one they brought in here." Rogue said—still hovering, not standing, Wolverine noted—as she released Evan's restraints.

Wolverine was reminded of the two dead women and, as he moved to check on Evan, he asked Rogue, "They didn't drug ya… they made ya watch?" The idea of it obviously disgusted him.

Rogue didn't look at him when she answered. Instead she stayed focused on removing the tubing. She was a lot more careful removing Evan's than she had been when she'd removed her own. "Ah kinda pissed some of 'em off," she said quietly, though not quite sheepishly, as if she were remembering something that brought up mixed emotions of pride and regret and pain.

Wolverine released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when he found Evan's pulse. He also saw Evan's chest rising and falling with his slow, shallow breaths. His breathing like that wasn't a good sign, but as least he was still breathing.

As soon as Rogue snapped off Evan's collar, Wolverine started to pick him up. Rogue beat him to it, though, and lifted Evan like it took no more effort than it would have taken to lift a pencil. As she did it, she said, "I'll take him. He'll slow ya down."

Wolverine gave her another questioning look with an incredulously raised eyebrow.

"We talk as we walk?" Rogue said, her voice and expression announcing her annoyance.

Wolverine nodded and they headed to one of two sets of swinging doors. He noticed that she didn't walk, but instead hovered… still hovered. That was really bothering him for some reason.

_Maybe she can't stop it… can't control it._

He didn't know it then, but she WAS controlling that newly gained ability of flight. She had absolute control over that. She was flying on purpose… and not because she thought it was fun.

Rogue paused when they reached the doors. A faraway look entered her eyes, like she was seeing not with her eyes but with something else. "It's clear for a bit," she told him and then pushed through the doors

Once they got into the halls, Logan used his still returning heightened senses to confirm her estimation that there wasn't anybody close by. That's when Rogue finally gave him some answers to his prodding. She whispered, "The restraints are made of some stuff they called Adamantium. Ah couldn't break 'em. It's too strong. The collars aren't made of it. So ah could break those."

"Ya got a couple extra powers there, girl," Logan said, his anger growing, "Didn't know you could absorb more than one at a time [2]." He knew that it was a pain/pleasure thing for her to absorb other people. She got their gifts, their talents, their skills, and if they were mutants, she got their powers too. Along with those things, though, she also got their memories, feelings, and thoughts, and that was always an assault on her own psyche. The idea of their captors forcing her to go through it more than once angered him. He was supposed to take care of her, take care of lots of other kids like her. That was another little bit more of his memory that came to him. His healing factor was kicking in pretty good by that point, yet still not up to full power. Must have been some powerful drugs they'd loaded him with. "How many people did they—"

He was cut off when Rogue stopped dead in her tracks. "Someone's comin'," she said as she motioned to the intersecting corridor ahead of them with a bow of her head. "Four," she said with that faraway look in her eyes, "And they've got guns, big guns, and collars… they're carrying extra collars." The last part was spat out, laced with venom.

"Take him," she whispered, and before he could object, Rogue dumped Evan into his arms and flew ahead. She continued issuing orders via telepathy, telling him_, ~"They know the way out."~ _There was a pause as she took the information out of lab security personnel's heads. _~"It's back two corridors, make a right, then past three more, and through the maintenance room. Exit's on the southeast wall."_~

He huffed and followed right on her heals to the corner that she had said the guards were coming from. When they reached the corner she spun back on him, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him with a shocked expression that brusquely asked him, clear as day, '_why aren't ya doing like ah said?_'

He huffed again, "I ain't leavin' ya to fight 'em alone, kid. You take Evan outta here—" He silently wished he wasn't carrying Evan so he could've popped his claws for emphasis right there. "—I'll take care of 'em my way."

_~"Shh,"~_ she hissed in his head and then surprised Logan again, by lifting him, still holding Evan, and flew them back to the corridor she said would lead the way out. As she flew, she said, _~"Look, Logan. Ya ain't back to full health, yet. Ah can handle them, really."~_ She deposited them back on the floor and then popped a couple of bones out of her forearm (Evan's power) for emphasis. He had to admit that he was amused with her gall, and her style.

_Guess she picked a few things up from training with me_, He thought proudly. He knew she'd heard his thoughts because she smiled at him. The smile only made him not want to leave her to fight the guards by herself even more. She was still just a kid.

_~"Then, yer comin' with. We can just leave. We don't need ta fight 'em."~ _He projected at her.

_~"Listen, Logan. They know where we are, they're trackin' us—don't ask, just listen—they'll catch up if ah don't stall 'em."~_

He held her pleading, yet confident, gaze for a moment while he decided. Finally he nodded.

~"_Ah'll be fine. Ah promise, Logan… Now get him outta here."_~ And with that she took off.

He watched her for a moment as she flew down the hall. He was about to leave, when he noticed something odd about her. She flew away from him in a position that put her at a diagonal, a sort of half-horizontal to the ground. It was the first view he'd had of her from that angle. Until then, he'd seen her lying on her back or hovering in front of him, facing him, or beside him in a mock standing position. When she'd moved ahead of him after she'd dumped Evan in his arms, she'd still been in that mock standing pose, so her legs had been blocked from his sight by Evan's body in his arms.

The new view he had of her revealed something disturbing about the flaps in the body suit on the backs of her legs. He could now see gashes—_nearly healed_—beneath the open flaps—_no, not flaps, tears_—at the backs of her calves and thighs. He could also smell the dried blood that had been the result of those gashes. _Dried blood. That's what those red patches really were. The yellows were numbers and letters. The reds were just blotchy shapes. They were really dried blood._ He hadn't noticed the blood smell of those nearly completely healed wounds earlier because the dried blood smell had blended in with the fresh blood smell from the surgical tubing. He had been wrong about that, though. He'd been very wrong. A realization hit him and he cursed himself for letting her go off on her own. _Rogue's flying because she CAN'T walk._

They all found out later that both her legs had been broken—in two places on each of her legs, thigh and calf—so bad that the bones had shoved through the skin. After they had arrived at the Institute, she would confess that the injuries had occurred soon after they had been captured and arrived at the installation. She would tell them that it had been her punishment for not being cooperative, for snapping at her captors. She would say that, eventually, her captors had made her absorb Wolverine to heal them so they wouldn't have to waste valuable medical research supplies by treating her wounds. She would also tell them that once she was healed her captors then punished her by not doping her up like they did the others when they performed their tests on her.

Everyone had believed her story without question. Everyone but Wolverine, that was. There were inconsistencies between what she'd told them and what his field experience and his heightened senses had told him. The blood from those wounds—and others—may have been dry when he'd awoken, and she may have been healed, but those breaks hadn't occurred right after they got there. For one thing, they weren't quite completely healed. Secondly, she obviously hadn't thought they were healed enough for her to trust walking on them. And thirdly, he had smelled how fresh they really were.

At the time of her confession, though, Wolverine had brushed it off as her being self conscious about having been forced to absorb his powers. Later, though, after other inconsistencies arose, after her unwillingness to offer up anything other than what the others had told or what she couldn't possibly hide from everyone, he started to doubt the truth to her confession.

When he first discovered the leg injuries, though, he'd been stuck with an unconscious, barely breathing Evan in his arms, and she was nearing the corner that lead to the guards she was about to encounter. It ticked him off, what she'd done, lying to him to get him to leave with Evan while she delayed the guards, but he left anyway. What else could he do? He couldn't take Evan with him to fight alongside her. He could already hear that the confrontation was nearing them. It was echoing down the halls. And he really wasn't about to leave Evan right there on the floor in the middle of a maze of hallways just so Evan could be discovered and recaptured. So, he did the only thing he could do considering the circumstances. He escaped the building with Evan, swearing to come back for her the moment he got Evan to a safe place.

About fifty feet past the exit of the building—which he'd realized once he was outside was actually an enormous modified warehouse—he ran into a few of the guards and he was forced to set Evan down after all. But, before long, Scott and Kurt had come across them. Wolverine had Kurt teleport Evan to safety and then he and Scott both turned to go back into the warehouse. That's when Wolverine discovered the real reason Rogue had convinced him to get Evan out of there.

Boom! Boom-boom-boom!

A series of explosions rocked the warehouse. The concussive forces of the blasts sent the warehouse toppling. A few dozen people managed to scramble out of the warehouse before it entirely collapsed upon itself.

Logan roared, "Rogue's still in there!" He took off at full speed for the collapsed building with Scott trailing right behind him. While some people were still fighting, Logan dug through the debris.

Scott caught up to Logan and put a hand on his shoulder to calm Logan's furious digging. Scott said, "She's okay, Logan. Jean says she's okay."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than they saw Rogue erupt out from underneath six floors of debris. She burst out, zipping straight up, higher and higher in the sky, almost out of sight. Then she stopped, caught her breath, and looked around to see her fellow X-Men and, surprisingly, the Brotherhood scattered around the site. Both teams were either fighting or sifting through the debris and tending to the injured. Finally, she flew back down, to hover, never letting her feet touch the ground, and continued to aid in the fight, the sifting through the debris, and tending to the injured until it was over.

Wolverine had never been angrier, or more relieved, or more proud of her than right then.

Now, it was two and a half months after they'd been captured, almost six weeks since they'd been rescued—or, rather, since they'd escaped. Wolverine could smell that Evan's scent had left Rogue when his powers had, but Wolverine could still smell the scents of the two dead blondes on Rogue. One of the blondes, he'd remembered once the drugs had completely worn off, had been a woman named Carol Danvers. She had been, in fact, an old buddy of his. The other blonde had been a woman named Emma Frost. Hank and Xavier had figured out that Rogue had permanently absorbed Carol's powers. They also figured that Rogue's permanent absorption of Carol was what had ultimately been responsible for Carol's death. Hank and Xavier had surmised, sadly, that if Carol was alive while their captors were taking her blood, she surely didn't have the strength left over after being absorbed so fully by Rogue to survive the blood taking.

Hank and Xavier still hadn't confronted Wolverine and the others about the purpose of the blood taking. They had all assumed it was for genetic and other such testing, and trusted that Hank and Xavier would tell them if they discovered that there was anything more seedier to it.

Hank and Xavier didn't think that what had happened between Carol and Rogue had also happened with Emma, though. They admitted that they couldn't find any trace of Emma's telepathic ability in Rogue, and that Rogue herself confirmed that it had faded away a few days after she returned to the Institute. Of course, neither Xavier nor Jean could scan her to get the most accurate result of that inquiry.

_But Rogue still has Emma's scent. _Wolverine thought, careful to keeps those thoughts private… Just in case. Rogue wasn't talking about what had gone on while they were captured. She confirmed what the others had reported, and those things that were beyond obvious to the others, but she didn't offer up anything more concerning what she personally went through or saw. Nobody really believed that she'd only seen or experienced the same things that Wolverine, Hank, Evan, or Fred Dukes had seen or experienced. When they considered the number of powers she had when they'd escaped, the number and extent of her healed, yet still apparent injuries, it just didn't make sense. Regardless, Wolverine noticed that they'd chalked it up to her clamming up because she wasn't ready to discuss her trauma. Actually, she had outright refused the Professor's counseling sessions. Hank and Evan participated in the sessions. Heck, even Fred Dukes came over and spoke with the Professor a few times. And even Wolverine, himself, had discussed the few things he did remember with the Professor, though Wolverine hadn't participated in what he had deemed '_Professor X's pansy ass sessions._'

There was more to it. Rogue was hiding something. Wolverine was sure of it. And he had his suspicions about what some of it was. Yeah, he had his suspicions all right. And those suspicions made him distrust Rogue, and that distrust unsettled him immensely. He had a soft spot for her. He thought of her like a kid sister, or maybe even like a daughter. He respected her, liked her, and felt a little bit more protective of her than the other kids. But now his suspicions were tainting his father-daughter relationship with her.

Wolverine blinked and stepped out of Rogue's way as she opened the refrigerator to take out a can of soda. She also had a bag of chips in one hand. After she closed the refrigerator, she looked at Wolverine and asked, sarcastically, "Back from memory lane, huh?"

Logan narrowed his eyes at her. _Did she really know that? Or was she just guessin'? Maybe just being a smart ass?_ Logan thought, being careful to keep it to himself. Out loud, he returned her sarcasm, and said, with diluted mock horror, "She speaks."

Rogue rolled her eyes and headed out of the kitchen.

He called after her, "Where ya think yer goin'?"

"Mah room… oh, ah'm sorry, ah meant 'mah porch,'" she called back over her shoulder.

"No yer not," he said.

She stopped, turned and frowned at him. "Why not?"

"Yer gonna help with the rebuildin' like everyone else."

"Ah will, aftah ah'm done with mah homework."

"Now, Rogue. You can do yer homework after dinner like the others are. After it gets dark."

"Fahne," she said, turning back to the kitchen to put her snacks away. "Gawd, ah don't know what the big deal is anyway."

"The big deal, Rogue," Wolverine said, his eyes flashing angrily at her, "Is that yer powers will speed this up. All the other kids are helping while yer either hiding out or complaining and you've got the least to complain about when it comes to this kind of work. With those new powers of yers, ya probably wouldn't even break a sweat."

Rogue threw her snacks to the ground, and due to the force of the new strength she was still getting used to, the soda exploded on both of them. She ignored it as she yelled, "Ya evah think that maybe ah don't wanna use 'em?! Ah did kill someone ta get 'em, remembah!"

And with that, she flew out of the room.

"Damn," Logan muttered.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

[1] I don't care if she doesn't actually have the emerald green eyes on the animated series (nor that she doesn't seem to always have them in the comics, either). I say she has emerald green eyes, so there!

[2] Has she ever absorbed more than one person at a time in the animated series? If so, then just ignore that comment. If not, then I like the idea of it being somewhat as a surprise the Wolverine and the others.

* * *

**TIME LINE**

**_0 days_:** DAY OF RECKONING. 1st news broadcast of mutants. Rogue, Logan, Fred, and Hank are captured.

**_3 days_:** RAID ON THE INSTITUTE. Described briefly in prologue.

_**42 days**_ (6 weeks): RESCUE. Mentioned in prologue. X-Men discover that Rogue has new permanent powers that allowed her to survive the warehouse collapsing on her and prevents Jean and Xavier from reading her mind (Ch. 1).

_**56 days**_ (8 weeks): PROLOGUE. It is revealed that Xavier changed the memories of Bayville inhabitants to make them forget that the X-Men and Brotherhood were the mutants involved in the news broadcast of the giant Sentinel attack.

_**70 days**_ (10 weeks): CHAPTER ONE. Rogue's 1st week back to school. Pietro tries to rescue Rogue from the dastardly Remy, who has so evilly trailed the Queen of Hearts card on her cheek. How horrible of him!

_**72 days**_ (10 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER TWO. Logan flashes back on his memories of the rescue, prompting him to confront Rogue about helping more with the reconstruction of the institute. Surprise, she's been avoiding using many of her new powers because she'd killed those whom she'd stolen them from.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Hmmm, did Rogue permanently gain Emma's telepathy? Why did the warehouse explode? Did Rogue know that it would and was that really why she sent Wolverine off with Evan? What did happen to her legs? Why did she lie about what happened to her legs? Ahh, so many questions left unanswered. You'll just have to read more chapters to find out won't you.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._


	4. Chapter 03 Adrift

**Callous**

**Chapter 03 – Adrift**

He couldn't sleep… again. It happened a lot lately. He'd be dead tired, lay down in his bed, nestle against the pillow and under the blanket, close his eyes, and then be plagued with his racing thoughts. If it wasn't the thoughts keeping him from falling asleep, then it was the nightmares that were waking him. So, he'd taken to going out. It wasn't an unusual thing for him. He had a lot of energy, and would often try to burn it off before he could fall asleep. The exercise always came in the same form, running. He was Pietro Maximoff, Quicksilver, the speed demon, after all, wasn't he?

So, again, he was racing through the streets and woods of Bayville and the surrounding areas trying to burn off energy, steam, and the thoughts and nightmares that were plaguing him.

What do I expect when I sold out my friends, my teammates, my family, those that were closest to me, just as I sold out my sworn enemies? What do I expect when I have a megalomaniac bent on world domination for a father? When my sister hates me and doesn't trust me and I've given her reason not to? When she's got anger issues and has to fight just to keep from taking them out on me and I've given her plenty of reasons to do so? When-my-father-is-arguably-the-most-powerful-mutant-in-the-world? When-that-hateful,-angry,-distrusting-sister-of-mine-is-also-one-of-the-most-powerful-mutants-in-the-world? When-all-I-can-do-is-hurt-them-and-enlist-their-wrath… andmovequickly? Whatispeed-asfunasitis-andasfreeasitmakesmefeel-comparedtoallthat?

"Nothing," He said coming to a stop with the weight of that simple statement. He leaned against a tree, trying to catch his breath. He pretended he was winded from the run. But he wasn't. He was winded by his thoughts.

When he'd finally caught his breath, he looked up to see where he'd landed himself. It was a nice view, actually. He was beside a well-paved road with trees forming a canopy over the road for the span of several blocks. In the small gaps in the canopy overhead, he could see the stars brighter than in the more densely populated parts in the city. That meant there was less light pollution here, a fewer amount of houses and stores and offices and other sources of light that would create a haze between him and the illumination of the stars themselves.

He used to watch the stars for hours at a time. Him and Wanda both. But that was before their father stored her in that mental institution. That was before either of their mutations had surfaced. That was before remaining still for hours at a time wasn't pure torture because he now felt like the world was constantly moving in slow motion around him. He was impatient with it. It made him irritable, and that irritability combined with his arrogance, made it difficult for people to want to get close to him. And the fewer people that were closer to him, the fewer people there were for him to hurt.

With the self-deprecating thoughts that were keeping him up that night, it was hard to place his arrogance as being real. But it was. Part of it was blatantly, innately him. Nobody should really blame him for it. Look at his father. His father spent hours lecturing him on how he was part of the next evolution of man.

"You are a mutant," his father had said dozens of times over when he was a wee kid, before that mutation had even manifested, "And as a mutant you are to inherit the earth from humankind. You are my son, the son of arguably one of the strongest mutants of all time and that makes you special. That makes you better than any other human, obviously, and even better than most other mutants. Your power will be great and your responsibility even greater."

Of course, with words like those repeated over and over enough times, it becomes understandable how he could get such an inflated ego. But his plaguing thoughts of self-hatred would suggest otherwise about himself. They would if he didn't bolster that arrogance when he was in front of people, used it like a mask, like a suit of armor, much like Rogue used her own armor of cloth for her skin and Goth attire for her inner-self, to keep away the squeamish. But even a mask, even an act, as contradictory to the thoughts behind the mask may be, if worn long enough, if acted out long enough, could become real. Especially so, when the start of that arrogance was so ingrained in him by his father.

So, his arrogance was real. That didn't mean he didn't care about anyone else. That didn't mean he didn't think about anybody else. That just meant that he thought about himself more than he thought about them. The type of thoughts a person had weren't necessarily what made them arrogant, made them self-centered. It was the fact that they thought of themselves first and foremost above all else. Thoughts of self-promotion, thoughts of self-hatred, they were all thoughts of himself. And they came before thoughts of everyone else.

Well, usually.

There were some benefits to his arrogance. It seemed to draw the attention of teenage girls directly to him. He had to admit he kind of liked that. It made him feel special… made him feel special in a more… a more human way. And that, oddly enough, made him feel more ordinary, more average, more like everyone else in the world. And that was, even more oddly enough when you considered his stark arrogance, well, that was a comfort to him.

Plus, he loved the challenge he'd given himself of making every girl swoon to his presence. If there was one thing he loved more than himself, it was a challenge. It was one of the reasons—not the only one or the biggest one, but it was a large reason—he stayed with the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood, with the exception of Wanda, weren't too challenging as opposition goes. But, the Brotherhood's adversaries, the X-Men—_X-Geeks-that-is_—they were challenging adversaries.

Pietro finally realized where he was. Just a little ahead of him was the private road that led to Xavier's Institute.

"And-speaking-of-X-Geeks," Pietro said aloud to himself in speed speech, "And-challenges-and-girls_—" _

_And-Rogue-and-caring._

"—Caring… Where-the-hell-did-that-come-from? I,-Pietro-Maximoff,-the-great-speed-demon-himself,-was-talking-about-challenges-and-girls."

_AndRogueandcaring,_ said the little demon inside of him. You know who he his, that little voice that you tried not to listen to, that little voice that goaded you into doing silly and risky things.

"Oh,-forget-it…" he said slapping his hands and rubbing them together in mischievous delight. "Time-to-have-some-fun."

He zipped off ahead, intending to play some prank on the X-Men. However, when he came face to face with a solitary figure, when his eyes locked onto the ruby on onyx orbs of that figure that was slinking out of the groves of trees that surrounded the Institute, Pietro froze in place. It was Remy LeBeau, AKA Gambit, who was meeting Pietro's steely gaze.

Gambit was dressed for his two favorite past-times, thievery and seduction. The uniform was for stealth, dark and clinging as it was, and for easy movement. His excellent agility was a part of his mutation, not a power per se, since he had to stay in practice to keep it up to par, but an offshoot of his mutation nonetheless. The brown leather duster, with its multitudes of secret and easily accessible pockets, was for pocketing what he stole and for… flair.

_What-the-hell-is-he-doing-here?_ Quicksilver wondered.

Gambit casually lit a cigarette by placing a tip of his finger to the end of it—and SPARK, a tiny charge ignited it. He took a long slow drag and released it, casually, like he was having a pleasant conversation with a friend, not like he'd run into a rival—_rival? Rival for what?_—in the middle of an isolated part of town in the middle of the night.

"'Allo, mon ami," Gambit said coolly to Pietro.

Gambit was a reluctant member of Pietro's father's new fighting force. When Pietro was working with his father, he was a teammate of Gambit's. That was during the short period right before he had betrayed the Brotherhood and the team up with the X-Men—_And-Rogue-with-them_—before he'd come to his senses and made amends, of sorts, with all of them.

"I'm not your friend, Gambit," Pietro snarled as he glared at Gambit. In response, Gambit merely shrugged. It was a common gesture of his. The shrug meant everything and nothing all at once.

Pietro scoffed at Gambit. He never liked the scoundrel much. Their personalities clashed because they were so alike in so many ways, yet so different in the nuances of those similar ways. Gambit was arrogant, like he was, but Gambit was so arrogant he was blatantly cocky. Worse, was that Gambit could back up every bit of the things he was cocky about… his fighting skills, his control over his powers, his stealth skills, his thievery skills, his way with women—not girls, with Gambit it was always _Women_.

These things were hardly a challenge for Gambit, and that really goaded Pietro. These things came to Gambit as easily as breathing. But, oh, like Pietro, Gambit loved a good challenge. As his code name implied, Remy LeBeau loved risks, loved the high stakes; he loved a good gamble. Especially since he usually won. For instance, Gambit would often spar with Sabretooth because he said that Sabretooth was the only one of the bunch of them that had any decent fighting skills, the only one of them that could give him a run for his money. Nearly half time, the Cajun actually won.

Gambit would also break into high security offices and banks just for the thrill of doing it. Magneto had actually forbidden Gambit from continuing his freelance thievery, though Gambit had been a contract-only thief, high risk, big money gigs only. For barely being eighteen, Gambit was already a master thief. Magneto spouted on to him about how, as mutants, they were above such petty things as thievery for monetary profit. Of course, that didn't stop Magneto from using Gambit to steal information or technology to aid them in their Cause. Everything was always about the Cause for Magneto. And anything that could be used to further the Cause was acceptable.

And as for Women? Well, Remy LeBeau could stand, completely concealed in the dark, and Women would be drawn to him. He knew how to sweet-talk to them, how to manipulate them to his whims, then drop them like yesterday's news. He often used his way with women to help him in his thievery. He would murmur to them in French, coo to them about how they were the only one for him, make them feel utterly unique and special and like they were the only person in the world that he was interested in. That's when he would convince them to give him some access codes to some security system or some safe or to some computer file. Then he would complete the job, never to speak or look at them again. Sure, he had his charm power on his side for things like this, but Remy never needed to use it just to get a Woman to notice him, to fall for him. It was about the challenge, wasn't it? But, honestly, even though Pietro hated to admit it, Gambit, Remy LeBeau, well, he was just that suave.

"Did my father send you here?" Pietro asked him as they faced on the private road leading to the Xavier Institute. They were over a dozen feet apart.

"Non," came Gambit's easy response. One word and it was so final. But he continued anyway. It was fun to mess with Pietro at any rate. "Gambit be here for de same reason he suppose y' be here."

"Really? And that would be…" Pietro said, baiting him.

Gambit gave him a look that was a mixture of a frown and a cocky grin when he said, "Now, Pietro, bein' coy doesn' suit y', n'est-ce pas?"

Pietro didn't answer him; just continued to glare at him. He knew exactly what the object of Gambit's personal mission was. He'd known it almost from his first meeting of Gambit. It had been just a week or two before the actual fight where the combined forces of the X-Men and the Brotherhood fought against Magneto, before the act of Pietro's betrayal. Magneto had arranged the meeting so that the group could acquaint themselves with each other and their anticipated adversaries.

Magneto had pointed to the skinny blonde guy and introduced him as, "John Allerdyce, codename, Pyro." Pyro was a boisterous, boasting Australian with the ability to control and direct flame as though it were a living pet to perform tricks for him. He couldn't create the flame though, so he usually carried a flamethrower around with him, so he'd have plenty of fire to work with.

"G'day," Pyro had greeted Pietro.

Next, Magneto pointed to the tall, muscle-bound man with short black hair and Slavic features, and said, "Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin. He is also called Colossus. He has immense strength which is increased to staggering levels when he is in his bio-metallic form." On cue, Colossus transformed his skin into organic steel.

"Good to finally meet you," Colossus had said with a thick Russian accent.

There was a quietness about Colossus, a peacefulness and easy-going quality to him that made Pietro wonder why he was working for someone like his father. _Why-did-anyone-work-for-him?_ Pietro shrugged it off as his father moved to the last new face.

Magneto pointed to the member that stayed to the few shadows that were available in the briefing room. This final member seemed perfectly at ease and yet, completely aware of everything in his surroundings as he leaned against the wall in the corner, one foot propped against the wall. His head was bowed so that the longish red-brown bangs of his unkempt hair fell in a curtain over his eyes, throwing his face in shadow. One hand was stuffed in the pocket of his duster and the other held a retractable bo-staff at a diagonal to the wall, its tri-pointed bottom pitted in the crease of where the wall and floor met.

"This is Remy LeBeau, code named Gambit."

Gambit flashed his trademark cocky grin and his Diable Blanc eyes flashed in unison. It was the first time Pietro saw those eerie orbs light up the shadows around his face and it startled him. Gambit noticed and broadened his grin and said, "Only Remy t' de femmes… an' some call Gambit de Ragin' Cajun."

Sabretooth actually chuckled, as did Pyro. Magneto grimaced at Gambit's antics, Colossus seemed unfazed by it, and Pietro scoffed in annoyance. Pietro somehow knew, right then, that Gambit would be another Evan for him. He also knew Gambit would be a much tougher adversary than Evan was.

Magneto cleared his throat and continued, "He can charge objects, causing them to explode to his desired degree. He can also charm people. He has increased agility and flexibility as well, and some increase of strength, though very slight compared to Colossus."

As soon as Magneto had started listing off Gambit's mutations, Pietro noticed Gambit's expression harden. This change told him that Gambit did not like having his abilities revealed in even the contained openness of the briefing room. It told him that Gambit liked to remain a mystery, a wild card. It also told him that he was probably holding some information about his capabilities back, something he could use to pull his butt out of the fire if it ever came to that. Pietro was tempted to inform his father of his suspicions, but decided to wait and see. He already didn't trust the Ragin' Cajun and was certain he wouldn't like him. He'd save this suspicion for when it would do him the most good. And right then, during that initial meeting, wasn't nearly enough of a sticky situation to pull out that trump card.

Once introductions had been completed, Magneto commenced discussing all of their anticipated opponents for the upcoming attack. He brought up bios of the Brotherhood and the X-Men, accompanied by pictures for most, one by one, right after another and discussed each of their fighting tactics and their mutations. Gambit made some comment or gesture about each and every female that was brought up. He would chuckle, whistle, and/or made some flippant remark of what he'd like to do with them.

By the fifth or sixth time, Sabretooth tried to shut Gambit up, by saying, "This is business, Gumbo, not a peep show."

Gambit immediately countered with that trademark cocky grin of his, and said, "De femmes toujours be Gambit's business, neh?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. To you, they're just meat," Sabretooth added in a challenging tone. From that statement alone, Pietro knew that Gambit and Sabretooth had known each other before working for Magneto, and at least one of their previous encounters had involved a woman.

Gambit's gaze hardened instantaneously. He narrowed those Diable Blanc eyes of his dangerously on Sabretooth and said, "Non, Creed, raw meat be more t' y' likin', oui? Gambit prefer his women livin' an' willin'… an' Gambit got non problemme gettin' 'em dat way eit'er, hein."

Sabretooth growled, but Magneto cut off further arguments right then and there. He returned at once to his discussion of their likely opponents. "All of these mutants possess the five most common forms of mutations. They are either based in mind or sensory abilities, physical manipulation or manifestations, nature manipulation, modes of travel—teleportation or speed like with Pietro here—or energy generation and manipulation."

He then cleared the screen of all the pictures and bios of Xavier, Beast, Storm, Wolverine, Cyclops, Jean Grey, Kurt, Spyke, Berzerker, Cannonball, Iceman, Jubilee, Magma, Sunspot, Wolfsbane, Boom-Boom, Mystique, Avalanche, Blob, and Toad. Then he brought up four more bios.

"These four, however, have much rarer forms of mutation," Magneto continued, "To my knowledge, they are the only mutants of their kind." A picture of the youngest Institute occupant filled the screen. "Jamie Madrox, Multiple, has the ability to duplicate himself. Each duplicate is sentient and has some semblance of individuality. As far as I know, he cannot form these duplicates at will. They occur when a forceful impact is made on his body. There is also no known limit to the number of multiples he can form."

"The kid's an army all by himself," Pyro said, genuinely impressed.

"Yes, but he is very young and has little to no fighting skills. It is unlikely you will come up against him." Jamie's info faded back with the others and Kitty's info filled the screen.

Gambit immediately commented, "A li'l too young an' too sweet f' Gambit's tastes, mais not bad."

Pietro balled his fists at his sides. Even though he was in the midst of betraying the Brotherhood members, he still didn't like Gambit's commentary on Lance's ladylove. It was fine if Pietro himself made commentary about Kitty or Lance's googoo-ness over her, but it wasn't okay for Gambit to do so.

"This is Katherine Pryde," Magneto said, ignoring Gambit's interjections about the female specimens he was discussing. "Her mutation, though it is technically based in both the categories of modes of travel and physical manipulation, is unique in its specifications. She has the ability to phase. She can become intangible and pass through any solid substance. When she phases through electrical systems she tends to cause them to short out."

Kitty's info faded back, leaving only Wanda and Rogue left to discuss. Magneto started in on them by announcing, "These last two are the wild cards of the all of them."

"Feisty li'l bitches, too. The both of 'em," Sabretooth said.

"Y' know what dey say in N'awlins, don' y'? De spicier, de better."

Magneto then pulled up Wanda's bio and picture. Even as he did so, he beat Gambit to the punch by saying, "Before you comment further on this one, Gambit, let me inform you that she is my daughter and Pietro's fraternal twin sister."

Gambit abided and managed to bite his tongue on his comments.

"This is the Scarlet Witch," Magneto continued. "Her powers are completely unpredictable and seemingly limitless. In simplest terms, she makes the unlikely, the improbable, the impossible, occur. You could equate her with being a modern day witch. She creates hex fields. Anything, and I mean anything can occur within one of these fields. She does not have much control over what it is that occurs, though. Which makes her even more dangerous because of her unpredictability."

Wanda's info faded back and Rogue's pulled forward. Before Magneto could announce her, Pyro said, "What's her power, imitating the dead?"

Sabretooth laughed. For some reason Pietro didn't find anything funny about the comment, odd since he'd always enjoyed razing Rogue before. She was so easy to send flying off the handle. She'd snap at any little thing, it seemed.

Gambit, surprisingly, didn't comment at all about Rogue.

Pietro had to admit that Rogue was an acquired taste for a palate that didn't arise often. Not many guys in Bayville went after her. She wasn't ugly by any means, and she had quite a fit and lithe figure. But, her bitterness showed in her expression, her stance, her posture, and her overall demeanor. She was a lot like Wanda in that way. Plus, the Goth look didn't go over too well with a large portion of the small town's population.

Still, Gambit had commented specifically on every other female, with the exception of Wanda, of course. But, could Wanda be counted, since Magneto had preceded Gambit's comment of her with a warning of his own? Pietro really didn't believe that Gambit was simply turned off by neither Rogue's Goth adornments nor the challenging and warning gleam in her emerald eyes. Actually, Pietro figured Gambit would be attracted to that spark. Yet, Gambit said nothing, and merely studied her picture and her bio and actually seemed to pay attention as Magneto described her abilities.

"No, Pyro," Magneto said with a cautious tone of voice, "That is indeed not her mutation. Rogue here is nearly as difficult to categorize as Wanda is. In some ways, her powers fit her in the mind and sensory ability section. But, in a deeper explanation of her powers, she can actually fit into all categories. She has only one natural mutation. It is the ability to absorb any living, breathing sentient being. It is completely uncontrollable and is triggered by the barest skin-to-skin contact. Once triggered, Rogue takes into herself the thoughts, memories, skills, talents and gifts of that person. If it is a mutant, she takes into herself their mutant abilities. She then possesses those things for herself. Thus, she is capable of wielding any power that exists in another living being by merely touching them. The length of skin contact is directly proportional to the length of time she possesses those abilities. It is estimated to be about a 1 to 60 ratio. The use of her power normally renders her victim unconscious. Although, I have suspicions that if the contact was prolonged for too much time, the victim would die, possibly leaving Rogue with all of his abilities permanently. This theory has never yet been tested though."

This last statement made Pietro visibly shutter. He'd known Rogue's power was dangerous. He'd experienced it for himself a few times. And even though he—and everyone else that knew her, he figured—had wondered if her powers could be lethal, Pietro could not recall anyone ever actually stating it flat out.

Gambit noticed Pietro's reaction. He saw that it was a mixture of awe, fear, annoyance, and… concern.

_Dat couldn' be right, could it. Dat guy don' look like he care much 'bout anyone,_ Gambit thought to himself.

Magneto unknowingly answered Gambit's questions about Pietro with his next statement. "Pietro is a member of the Brotherhood. He has fought by their side and against the X-Men. He knows their capabilities quite well. Feel free to ask him any questions about them."

The meeting was officially ended at that point. Pyro started a conversation with Colossus. Sabretooth eyed Gambit mischievously. Gambit retracted his bo-staff, pocketed it and pulled out a deck of playing cards all in the same fluid movement. He also watched Pietro slyly out of the corner of his eyes. He began shuffling the cards, but stopped when Magneto turned back to add two more points.

"Kitty of the X-Men group has a romantic involvement with Avalanche, the field leader of the Brotherhood. You may be able to make use of that emotional weakness against them. Oh, and one more thing. The one called Rogue, was at one time a member of the Brotherhood, though she has since joined the X-Men. Though I'm not quite certain if she is aware of it, Nightcrawler is her brother. They do seem to have a small sibling bond, regardless of whether they know of their similar connections with Mystique."

Pietro was startled by that announcement. He hadn't known Rogue and Nightcrawler were brother and sister. He definitely didn't think Rogue knew about it.

Magneto didn't seem to notice or care about Pietro's reaction, he continued as if it had never happened, saying, "She also seems to still have concerns for her former teammates of the Brotherhood. Though she is quite focused in a battle situation, her attachments could possibly be used against her as well… Remember, all of you, your emotions are weapons in you enemy's arsenal." And with that he left.

Sabretooth trailed after him, mumbling something about the plan for taking out Wolverine. Pyro and Colossus continued their conversation as they left as well. Gambit just remained mysterious, secretive in his aloof behavior while he shuffled his playing cards. As Pietro was leaving, though, Gambit asked, in a matter-of-factly tone, "So, y' were teammate's wit' Rogue, n'est-ce pas?"

Pietro faced him with a scowl and said, "Yeah, what of it?"

Gambit continued shuffling his cards, only looking at Pietro with his sly sidelong glance, when he asked, "So y' boarded in de same house, non? Y' got ta know la belle femme real well?" When Pietro narrowed his scowl with even more suspicion on Gambit, Gambit added, "Jus' wonderin' what else we could use against her, y' know?"

Pietro held his scowl for a moment longer. His words got quicker and quicker as he spoke, "Her room was next to mine. She left pretty soon after I joined up. So-no-I-don't-really-know-her-too-well-So-stop-pestering-me-aboutitalready."

Gambit lifted his head and raised a curious brow to Pietro's rushed answer. "No need t' get all riled up, mon ami. Gambit just curious, is all."

"I'm not riled up. Why-would-I-be-riled-up? She's-just-one-of-the-X-Geeks-And-what-does-mon-ami-mean-anyway-SpeakEnglishwhydon'tyou!" Pietro spouted at him and then abruptly sped off to return to his unsuspecting teammates in the Brotherhood.

After Gambit's questions about Rogue in that first meeting alone, Pietro shouldn't have been surprised that Gambit would single Rogue out in the fight like he did. Rogue offered an incalculable gamble in a fight; one that Gambit wouldn't be able to pass up. It shouldn't have even surprised Pietro that Gambit had used his charm powers to daze her temporarily. But, it did. Mostly, it surprised him because Gambit didn't attack her as soon as he had her under his charm. Gambit just watched her in return, as though he was caught in a charm power of Rogue's own, a power that didn't exist in her. And when he finally did attack her, it was a passive attack. He'd just slipped her the charged card, and then released her from his charm in enough time to throw the card away without it harming her.

It was only reasonable that after Gambit's behavior toward Rogue during that fight Pietro wasn't surprised to find that Gambit had made the conquest of her his own personal mission. But, now that Pietro had made amends with the Brotherhood, and with Rogue and the other X-Men to an extent of sorts, Gambit's behavior towards Rogue—_admit-it-he's-stalking-her_—irked Pietro. When he deserted his father's side this last time, Pietro had vowed to keep his teammates (and secretly to himself, even the X-Men) out of his father's grasp to the best of his ability. It was his penance for what he'd done to them, for what Fred, and Wolverine, and—gasp—his rival Evan had gone through when they were caught during that fight his father had planned. …Especially for what Rogue had gone through. Pietro was pretty sure she suffered more than she was letting anyone know. He was pretty sure she hadn't been raped or anything like that. But he was sure she'd suffered other psychological tortures, other physical tortures. He was sure she had new demons plaguing her. Demons other than Gambit or himself, that was.

That meant he couldn't let Gambit succeed with what he had planned for Rogue.

So, there they stood that sleepless night, facing off against each other, more than a dozen feet apart on the private road that led to the Xavier Institute.

Gambit took another smooth drag of his cigarette, released it in a slow, deliberate swirl from his lips, then said, "Gambit give y' a piece o' advice, d'accord. Keep y' noise t' a minimum. Wolverine likely smelled dat Gambit was over dere so he'll be on de lookout before y' even get passed de main gates."

Gambit finished off his cigarette, dropped it to the road and extinguished it with a brisk twist of his foot. The movement was so lithe, so fluid, Pietro hardly noticed he'd done it… and Pietro saw the world as though it were in slow motion.

"Bonne nuit et bonne chance [2]."

_Good night and good luck?_ Pietro hadn't taken up the foreign language, but it was common enough sounding words that he could guess their meaning.

Gambit turned to leave, but Pietro stopped him. Though he was pretty sure he already knew what the answer would be, Pietro asked Gambit curiously, "Why tell me that?"

Gambit's ruby on onyx eyes flared with devilish delight and he flashed a matching grin, then said, "Competition always raises de stakes o' de pinch." Then he disappeared into the grove of trees on the other side of the private road just as silently as he had arrived.

Pietro watched after him for a long while. Then he turned his attention to the gates of the Institute that were barely visible as the end of the private road. He looked there for a long while as well. Then he turned and went home.

_I've got one advantage over you, Gambit, _Pietro thought, methodically. _She'll willingly look at me in school tomorrow. She'll talk to me without hatred in every word she says to me._ Pietro smirked to himself, his mood now much more jovial than it had been when he'd arrived.

He no longer felt adrift. He now had a purpose. It was even a little bit of a noble purpose.

Plus, I know Rogue hates that Logan smokes cigars. And, since you're so fond of your cigarettes, that means there's already two points against you, Cajun.

* * *

BZZZZZ—POP! The two toaster-waffles were done.

"Mine!" Kitty hollered as she pushed her way through the crowded kitchen full of mutant teens trying to squeeze in breakfast before going off to school.

Bamf! Nightcrawler teleported beside the counter, where the toaster was, and reached for the waffles.

Kitty reached a phased hand through Nightcrawler, grabbed the waffles, phased them too, and pulled them through Nightcrawler to deposit them onto her awaiting plate.

"Ewww!" Kurt complained with a disgusted grimace. "I hate ven you do zat, Kitty!"

Kitty just giggled at him and set to eating her toasty warm waffles with lots of butter and syrup on them.

"Do it again!" exclaimed one of Jamie's multiples. Four multiples had been created because Bobby had accidentally landed on Jamie when Cannonball had blasted through Bobby's ice slide during that morning's training session.

"Ach! Another time, Jamie," Rahne said, patting the top of his head, "Ye gotta catch ye bus now, remember?"

All the Jamies sulked and stomped out of the room, heading off to catch a ride from Storm to the bus stop. They were still a vehicle or two short since the mansion had been blown up, forcing Jamie and the other students attending his school to ride the bus. Jamie ran around the corner and barreled right into Rogue.

"Ulph!"

One more Jamie appeared.

"Oops…" Jamie gulped when he looked up to see the scowl on Rogue's face. "Sorry…" One added sheepishly.

Rogue sighed. "Just watch where ya'll're goin' next time, half-pints," Rogue said as she continued past them and toward the kitchen as the Jamies went off to his destination as well.

Rogue paused outside the kitchen. She could hear all the commotion of a very crowded kitchen, and it set her on edge. She really didn't like crowds. They upped the chances of her accidentally absorbing someone.

"Bobby!" Rogue heard Kurt exclaim on the other side of the doorway. Rogue silently mouthed the rest of Kurt's likely complaint. "Stop freezing my breakfast!" It was a part of the regular routine of the Institute to say the least.

Rogue really didn't want to deal with them this morning, so she decided she'd rather skip breakfast. Right then the idea of her stomach growling until lunch was a more welcoming idea than that boisterous group. She turned to leave without the others. She didn't need to wait for a ride to school. She could always fly.

However, other people had a different opinion on the subject.

"Are you catching a ride with me, Rogue?" Scott asked just as she turned the knob on the front door. If she hadn't already known he was behind her, if he'd startled her as he had intended, she probably would've crushed the handle in her surprise.

"Naw, got mah own transportation," Rogue said without turning to face him. She pulled open the door, but he stepped closer. Rogue sighed again, and thought, _He just won't let up, will he? _

"Rogue, the Professor and I really don't think it's a good idea for you to be using your powers so blatantly in public," Scott said in his best '_I'm team leader so you must follow my orders_' voice. Rogue didn't need to face him to know that his arms would be crossed across his chest in accompaniment to the tone of voice. He did it all the time. He did it more so, since the fight with Magneto's new team. He'd become more protective, sterner, stricter with everyone since that fateful day.

She let go and finally turned to face him. She also moved further outside as she did so, and said, "Look, Cyke. Ah'm careful, all right. Ah hover at ground level whenever anyone's around ta see meh. Ah do it all the time. Even ya'll don't notice when ah'm doin' it." Silently she added to herself, _And it's a good thing, too. Ya'll have been buggin' meh enough as it is._

Scott looked her over, watched her more closely. _She __**looked**__ like she was standing_, he thought to himself. Then he looked very closely at her feet. After a few moments, he noticed it. Sure enough, she was hovering, not standing. She mimicked standing nearly perfectly, though. He wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been specifically looking for it. And even then…

But, there WERE telltale signs. They were subtle and Scott really did have to be looking specifically to notice them. The muscles in her legs weren't tensed the same way they would be if she _were_ standing. Her knees were bent just the slightest bit more than they should be and her legs did have a certain slackness to them. The clincher, though, and the most deceptive aspect, were her feet. They were in contact with the floor, but just barely. There wasn't any pressure on her feet, they had that same certain slackness to them that her legs had.

After looking over the nuances of her mimicry, Scott returned his gaze to her face. His surprise and realization were apparent in his slightly gawking expression.

"Told ya," Rogue said and turned to leave.

Scott was taken aback by her '_in your face_' attitude towards him, so he decided to bring up another grievance against her. He was team leader, after all; it was his duty to do so. He called after her, a little harsher than he'd meant to, due to his bruised ego and all, saying, "You missed this morning's training session. You have to make it up after school, so don't be late."

Rogue spun back to him, still hovering, her scowl deepening. "What for? Huh? The danger room ain't up an' runnin'. It's just the bunch of us fightin' each other on the lawn an' it's not like any of ya'll have half a chance of beatin' me now, so what's the point? Ah don't feel like being ya'll's personal battle drone for ya test your mettle against. Find some othah way ta toughen yourselves up for the next all out war against Magneto."

And with that, she tried to leave again. She got about ten feet away when he caught up to her… again. _Dang it!_ She complained to herself.

"Are you okay, Rogue?" He asked, turning her back to him with a hand on her covered shoulder.

Rogue let him turn her toward him. This wasn't important enough, he wasn't annoying her quite enough, to _purposely_ use the strength she'd gained from Carol against him. So, she let her power of flight absorb the force of her strength so he could turn her.

She abhorred using the powers she'd gained during her capture. Not only was the strength a bane to her existence because of how hard it still was for her to judge how much of it she exerted at a time, but it was a constant reminder to the cost that had provided her with it: Carol's death. Nearly all the things she'd gotten from Carol fell into that category of powers Rogue abhorred. Only Carol's power of flight was spared from that category. But the others weren't: the superhuman strength, the invulnerability, the immunity to poisons, the seventh sense—a sort of warning sense that hardly ever stirred, really—_Guess it takes my invulnerability into account in deciding what it should warn me of_—and the entirety of Carol's persona. Rogue had Carol's memories, her personality… the whole of Carol inside of Rogue's mind. And Carol wasn't alone in there.

"Really, Kate," Scott said, endearing Rogue with his nickname for her. He was hoping it would help bring her out of the shell she'd clamped even more tightly around herself since she'd come home to the Institute after her being captured and held prisoner with Logan, Evan, and the Blob. He'd known that she'd had a crush on him at one time. He'd also figured that it was mostly because he was safe. He was hooked on Jean. And though he cared for Rogue, considered her a friend and not just an object of recruitment, they both knew he didn't care for her in that way. Those feelings of his were tied up exclusively in Jean. "I want to know. I want to help if I can."

"Just leave me alone, Cyke." _Don't ya'll get it? There's nothing ya'll can do,_ she added silently. This time she flew out of his reach, faster than he could run. She was out of sight of the mansion in a matter of seconds.

* * *

Rogue let herself get caught and pulled along in the current of students flooding through the halls on their way to their next class or to second shift lunch, where she was headed. Mostly, she was being mindless, well, trying to be at least. She was trying not to panic over all the people that brushed against her covered arms and legs. It wasn't easy.

Since she'd gained Carol's powers, though, she'd made it into a practice exercise for herself. She focused on keeping herself relaxed, loose enough so that when a student bumped into her shoulder, her shoulder actually gave, actually jerked back with the opposing force of the bump. It may sound mundane; sound like it should be simple, easy, ordinary. But, with her newfound strength and invulnerability, it wasn't ordinary for her anymore.

The first time someone bumped into her shoulder as they passed her in the hallway, that person was sent sprawling backwards, knocking over three other students like they were bowling pins, to crash down on their butts on the floor. When it happened, Rogue had tried to blend into the crowd, to become unnoticed, to avoid being associated with the odd display. Her efforts to keep people from getting too close to her, socially and physically, had backfired to a certain degree in this incident. They had learned to avoid her, and therefore, they knew exactly who Rogue was. At that moment, her singular Goth attire—a rarity for the small town school—her perpetual scowl, and her BACK-OFF attitude made her rather difficult not to be noticed.

So she practiced little things like what she was doing right then, her shoulder giving with the bump of another student, in order to help her hone her use of her strength and invulnerability since both were like her absorption powers. They were always in the ON position. And she used that practice as a way to fight off the panic of the crowd brushing against her with only a few layers of cloth between her and their possible death. At one time, her teammates, and even Rogue herself, brushed that particular statement off as a gross exaggeration. But not anymore. Not after Carol… Not after…

Rogue breathed a sigh of relief when she finally reached her locker. She kept herself hugged to the wall of lockers as she waited for the hall to clear before attempting to open her locker. She didn't do this as an avoidance of their proximity to her skin. Right after her powers had manifested, it had been for that reason. But now, now it was because of that cursed superhuman strength. She'd already had too many accidents with it since she returned to school. She couldn't afford for them to witness another example of her differences from them. Scott was worried that it would be the use of her power of flight that would get her caught, but he was worrying about the wrong powers. She feared her strength and her invulnerability would get her recognized as a mutant as surely as her absorption power did in her hometown. Especially, if she were to again—

Ripped her locker door off in her hand. She huffed, angrily, and looked around to see if anyone had seen her do it. Left—nope, nobody there. Right—no, not there, either.

"Thank Gawd," she sighed.

"You're-welcome!" Pietro said in his usual speedy fashion.

She actually jumped, spun around and smacked backwards into the wall of lockers… and put a large dent in several of them with the force of her simple gesture. She really hadn't expected Pietro's voice right behind her like that. She hadn't sensed his presence at all and she should have. Plus, there hadn't been the telltale whoosh of air accompanying him either.

"Pietro!" she hollered, throwing the locker door to the floor. This time she was very careful that she didn't throw it hard enough to crack the tiles. Then she removed herself from the Rogue shaped dent in the wall of lockers.

"Ah could've killed you with that dang thing, ya know!" Rogue yelled. She really could have. When she'd spun around, she'd instinctively swung her right hand, the one holding the locker door, at the person who had startled her… at Pietro.

"No, I saw it coming," he said with his trademark '_I'm de bomb_' smirk, "I'm too quick for you, Roguey."

They both looked at the crumpled mess of what was once her locker door that now lay on the floor between them. In being startled, she'd clutched both hands in her fists, including the one still holding onto the locker door. In doing so, she'd crushed the lock and the metal just surrounding the lock into what looked like a crudely forged doorknob. She'd crushed it as easily as most people would crush and empty soda can. It took no effort at all.

That was the real reason she avoided the X-Men's danger-room-free training sessions. She just didn't have enough control over her strength, yet. She didn't trust herself to pull her punches to a great enough degree. She was afraid she'd accidentally kill, not just injure, but kill a teammate with a mere shove of her fist.

She picked up her locker door and looked up at Pietro with defeat plainly scrawled on her face. She gestured to the dent in the lockers and then held her locker door up to him and asked, "How am Ah going ta explain this?"

Pietro shrugged and asked, "How many is that now?"

"Four," she answered.

"And you've only been back three weeks, now?" Pietro didn't even try to stifle his chuckle. "Jeeze, Rogue, I wouldn't even bother trying. Just toss it and give up using it at all. Not like you can't carry all your books with you, anyway."

Rogue frowned at him. She tossed the ruined locker door into the nearby trashcan. "That's not the point," she said as she loaded her books into her backpack.

He leaned his shoulder against the lockers, on the dent free side of Rogue, and cocked his head left-ways in an attempt to get her to meet his eyes. He said, "What is the point, then?"

"Ah don' know…" Rogue said as she shoved the last of her possessions into her backpack. She zipped it up, and swung it onto one shoulder. Then she turned the full weight of her emerald eyes on him and said, "Ah gotta go. Ah actually have ta eat this sludge they serve as food here. Ah skipped breakfast again."

He rested his head against the lockers in a thoughtful manner and offered, "I could run and pick something up for you, if you want…" He trailed off, caught in the weight of her weary, emerald eyes. The thought, _Is this what happened to Gambit in the fight,_ slipped through his mind before he could stop it. The moment he realized what he was doing, he shook himself out of his daze, and straightened into his usual arrogant pose.

Before Rogue could remark on his strange behavior, he said, quickly, "Pick-a-restaurant-any-restaurant-it'll-only-take-a-minute." Then he flashed her that smirk of his, his eyes sparking like lightning, and added in a speed that was uncharacteristically slow for him, "Or less."

"No thanks," Rogue said, "Ah wanna be alone today." She turned and headed down the hall. After getting only a few feet away, she turned back, finding him where she'd left him, and said, "But thanks for the offah."

Pietro stayed and watched her move down the hall.

"What are you up to, brother dear?" Wanda asked accusingly.

He didn't bother facing her as he answered, matter-of-factly, "Nothing. Just messing with the X-Geeks… The usual."

Rogue finally turned the corner at the end of the hall so Pietro finally looked at his sister. She was glaring at him suspiciously. She knew he was lying to her and he could tell she knew that from her glare. Like everyone else, he really didn't want to provoke her anger, her wrath… sort of like how it was with Rogue, actually. They both had dangerous tempers. And now, with Rogue's added powers, her wrath was deadly for more than just the threat of her unclothed touch. Inciting Rogue's anger was on a par with inciting Wanda's, though with drastically less random possible mediums of torture. With Wanda's powers, it was impossible to predict what she'd make happen. At least with Rogue's powers, there was a modicum of a defined list of things she could physically do in retaliation. Of course, he, like the other X-Men and Brotherhood members, didn't realize the list was longer than she'd let them in on. But, even then, the list was still shorter than Wanda's was.

"Well?" Wanda asked when he hadn't yet responded truthfully. She had continued to glare at him, too.

"A-duel-of-honor," he said and smirked.

She laughed right in his face and said, "You don't know the meaning of the word." And then she left him there, left him, stunned, to watch her move away from him… much in the same way Rogue had just done. They both took a part of him with them.

* * *

The breeze was picking up. She could smell the rain on the breeze. A storm was heading their way. It was still a ways off, though.

She used to love storms. She used to find them exciting, like a roller coaster was exciting. A powerful storm used to be a rush. And when it was bad enough to knock out a transformer and force everyone to light candles, well, that was the best. There was a sense of danger, a taste of being in the middle of something that was completely out of her control. It was a reminder of nature's passionate fury, and how small she really was in the scheme of things. A lot of that mystique was lost upon meeting Storm. But for Rogue, most of it was lost when she learned what it was like to lose control of your own body. To lose the sense of touch to a twist of fate that nature placed inside her. Panicky fear of touch had replaced that exciting fear of the storm. But, unlike her fear of touch, the fear of the storm wasn't constant. It's randomness and its infrequent occurrence had permitted the fear to be exciting, anticipatory, and even fun. A nonstop, never-ending, scarier-than-all-get-out storm would never have been fun… just like the power that first announced her mutant status.

_Wonder if Storm's gonna make it pass by us or not?_ Rogue wondered offhandedly as she floated lazily along the road. She was on her way home from school. She had turned down Scott's offer of a ride home and instead opted to fly again. Flying still amazed her. She didn't think she would ever get over it, that it would ever be anything less than heavenly.

May as well get as much of heaven while ah can. After killing ta get these powers, it's not likely ah'm headin' that direction when ah die.

She pushed the depressing thoughts out of her head and focused on the feeling of flying, even if it was low to the ground and more like slowly floating forward, like drifting in the Mississippi River when there hadn't been a storm in weeks. Just as she had done all those times she had gone swimming in the that trudging flow back in Caldecott when she was a kid, she spread her hands out, splaying her fingers apart, and felt the currents quicken against her fingers. The sensation of the breeze, what she could feel of it—was very similar to how the river had felt when she'd done that. It was tranquil and lucid.

She stopped short, eyes still closed, and cocked her head to the side. She looked into the grove of trees to her right, and called out, "C'mon out, Speedy. Ah know ya there." She waited, but he still didn't reveal himself. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled with impatience. "Ah don't got all day, Pietro. Cyke'll lay inta me if ah'm late."

A rustle in the trees to her right, exactly where she had known he was, preceded the familiar whoosh, which preceded the arrival of Pietro.

"You'regettingbetter-at-this," he said, slowing down with each word, "How-do-you do it?"

She shrugged, non-committing, and asked, "Why do ya'll keep following me anyway?"

He shrugged too and said, "It's fun to mess with you."

Rogue scowled at him, but she started floating forward again, allowing him to walk along side her. He matched her slightly faster than walking speed with ease. They stayed like that for a while, her floating along, him walking beside her, both of them looking ahead to where they were going.

Eventually, Rogue returned to what she had been doing before she had caught Pietro. She closed her eyes, held her hand out to her sides, splayed her fingers wide, and just savored the sensation of the breeze brushing between her gloved hands. He glanced over at her, then forward again.

"I do something like that sometimes," he said in that uncharacteristically slow speed again. It was almost like he was talking to himself more than he was talking to her. "When I'm running and there's nobody around for miles. I'll do it. I'll go as fast as I can, and hold my arms out, close my eyes, and pretend I'm flying."

"Mmm-hmm…" she said. It was a sigh of pleasant understanding.

He glanced at her gloved hands and said, "You could take them off you know. It'll be easier to feel the air that way. I'll stay out of reach if you're…" --_afraid, no don't say afraid--_ "…if you'd prefer." _That's a better word. 'Prefer.' It's a neutral word_.

"Wouldn't make much of a difference."

_Okay, wasn't expecting that answer._ "Why?"

"Why ya wanna know?"

He shrugged. Then he realized she couldn't see it because her eyes were still closed, so he said, "Just curious, I guess."

"Just curious, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Then Ah'll tell ya," she said and opened her eyes, though she didn't look at him, yet. "Ah'm tired of people askin' me how Ah am an' tellin' me how they're so worried 'bout me," she drawled sarcastically.

Pietro almost told her he was worried about her, but he didn't. She'd basically just given him a free warning, and he knew he couldn't pass it up. She wouldn't give him another one.

She held her hands in front of her, twisted them and wiggled her fingers around, all the while eyeing them as though she were studying them, or seeing them for the first time.

"Mah invulnerability," she said as if that would explain everything.

"How so?" He asked, genuinely curious, now. _How would something that prevents you from being wounded make a difference in how the air feels against your bare skin?_

"It's like this," she said, "Physical pain an' pleasure are only as strong as the thing that caused the feeling."

Okay,IdidNOTjustBLUSHwhenshesaidPLEASURE! …I'm-starting-to-take-this-whole-competition-thing-way-too-seriously… I-hope-she-didn't-notice.

"For example," she said loudly, drawing his attention back to her, "Say a bullet hits me in the chest an' it just bounces off. No harm done. Well, it feels just like that. No harm done. Get it?"

"I think so," he said. After a moment, he asked, "But what about a paper cut?"

"Hmm?"

"Paper cuts hurt more than a lot of worse injuries," he said. "So, I'm just wondering how that relates."

She stopped, hovered, and looked at him and said, "Good question. Ah don't rightly know, though. Ah haven't had a paper cut since Ah got the invulnerability. Ah can't get one at all now." She started floating forward again. "Ah guess it would feel the same as the bullet, since they would do about the same amount of damage."

"Have-you-been-hit-by-a-bullet?!" He asked, his anxiety apparent in his voice and the speed in which he said it, as he halted her with a hand on her clothed arm.

"No," she said in between peels of laughter.

He frowned at her. "What's so funny?"

"You," she said, still laughing. "You looked so… so… Gawd, nobody will believe this… The great an' mighty Quicksilver actually looked like he cared 'bout somebody othah than himself!"

"So-what-if-I-am?" He spat defensively.

Rogue's laughter was dwindling. "Well, come on, Speedy… Ah mean… it's _you_."

"Thanks a lot, Rogue," he said and made to take off. But, he was jerked to a stop by Rogue's grasp on his shoulders. His head jolted from the abrupt stop her incredible strength caused. He rubbed his neck and squawked, "Jeeze-Rogue-you-don't-have-to-give-me-whip-lash!"

That, of course, sent Rogue into another bout of laughter. He spun another glare at her and she covered her mouth to suppress her laughter. "Ah'm sorry… really, Speedy, Ah apologize… ya forgive me?"

He mock gasped and mimicked her southern drawl, badly, when he said, "Oh mah Gawd! The Rogue, The Wicked Witch of Bayville herself, actually laughed—"

"Ha-ha, very funny, Ah get your point…"

"—AND apologahzed—"

"Ya'll can stop any time, now," she kept talking as he talked, trying to get him to stop mimicking her accent.

"—Hell musta—"

Finally, Rogue slapped him lightly, playfully on the arm…

"—frozen ovah—OW," he yelped, rubbing his arm where she slapped him.

…_Well, ah thought it was lightly_…

He continued to rub his arm as he added a mock pout to his act.

"Stop it, Ah didn't hit ya _that_ hard," she said as she started floating toward the Institute once more. _Gawd, Ah hope ah didn't._

He joined her, matching her speed just as he did before, saying, "How would you know, you're invulnerable, remember?"

"Don't forget '_Wicked Witch of Bayville_,'" she said. It was a threat. It was playful, though.

"Who-would-ever-say-such-a-thing-not-me-that's-for-sure-I-value-my-life."

"Oh, ah guess ya'll musta been talkin' about your sistah, huh?"

"Wanda? No, she's not a witch she's a bit—" Pietro started to say, but Rogue's gloved hand covering his mouth cut him off.

"Shh," Rogue said, mocking fright as she peered cautiously from side to side, "She might hear ya."

Pietro heard what Rogue was saying, but he didn't _hear_ her. The moment her gloved hand made contact with his lips, that's all he was aware of anymore. It was like a jolt of electricity started at that point of contact and spread throughout all of him. He was very, very tempted to plant a light kiss, just a mere peck, on her glove where it rested against his lips.

But he didn't.

He gave it a sloppy lick instead.

"Yyllck!" she gasped as she yanked her hand away, laughing, "Ya slobbered me!" She wiped her wet glove on her pants.

He rubbed his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He could still taste the material; still feel its texture on his tongue. And he kind of liked it. He looked over at her, drinking her in with his gaze, as he savored the taste of her glove, the feel of her glove still on his tongue and lips.

And then he did the worst thing he could do right at that moment. He knew he shouldn't have said it. He knew it would piss her off. He knew it was too much, too fast, but he did it anyway. He is the speed demon, after all.

"I _am_ worried about you, Rogue."

"What?!"

"I-am-we-all-are-you-won't-talk-aboutwhathappened—"

"Shut. Up."

"—youhardlytalktoanyone—"

"Ah can't believe it! Ah'm even gettin' it from ya'll now, too"

"—I-bet-this-was-the-longest-you've-talked-to-anyone-without-biting-their-head-off—"

"Just leave me alone!" She made to fly off, but Pietro grabbed her arm and held on with all his strength. Still, she almost jerked his arms out of their sockets. He knew she could have. Even as angry as she was, she was still trying to be careful not to hurt him. He took that as a good sign.

"Have-you-even-told-Scott-or-the-Professor-about-Gambit-always-bugging-you?"

"Let. Go." It was an order. She gave his arm another jerk, but he held tight, though his reach was stretched so much that his toes barely kept contact with the ground.

"Why-not?-He's-dangerous-Hestillworksfor—"

"Fahne, have it your way," she said and then launched into the sky, taking him with her. They were flying before he realized it. His arguments were ended when he noticed the view of Bayville below them. He didn't get much of a chance to appreciate it though, because he was suddenly dropped into a lake.

It took a moment before he realized he was falling; to realize that she'd actually dropped him. Falling felt a lot like the flying had. "OhhhhhhhhNoooooooo!" he yelled the whole way down. Thirty feet below, he splashed into the thankfully, deep lake.

* * *

Almost an hour later, a partially speed-dried Pietro stomped into the Brotherhood house and stomped—SLUSSHH—SLUSSHH—SLUSSHH—SLUSSHH—not ran, straight past the others, who were hanging out in the living room, and straight for his room.

Todd took one look at him, the state of his usually perfect hair and clothes, and hopped along behind him. Lance and Tabitha quickly joined them. It was easy to see where he'd gone. There were soggy footprints marking his trail.

"What happened to you, yo?" Todd asked as he hopped up the stairs behind Pietro. He didn't answer.

"Holy shit!" Tabitha giggled when she saw the mud patches and the grass and other lake vegetation clumped to his clothes and his hair.

"I thought you were gonna hang out with Rogue?" Lance asked on top of Tabitha's exuberant cursing. They were just reaching the top of the stairs.

"What she'd do, yo, drop you in a lake or something?" That was Todd, of course, sticking his foot in his mouth.

Pietro spun around and launched daggers from his gaze at the three that were following him. He spun back around just as suddenly and continued stomping to his room. SLUSSHH—SLUSSHH—SLUSSHH—SLUSSHH.

Of course he had to pass Wanda's room to reach his own. Of course she had to be standing in her open doorway grinning a wicked '_thought so_' smirk at him.

"Duel of honor, huh?" She asked rhetorically. "Guessin' you lost."

Hpassed by her without acknowledging her presence.

She continued despite his ignoring her, calling down the hall after him, "This prove you haven't got any?!"

* * *

FWAP…CRINKLE…SHHHHHH…FWAP—CRINKLE—SHHHHHH…FWAP—CRINKLE—SHHHHHH…

The wind was whipping the black tarp that was tacked over the largest hole in Rogue and Kitty's room. FWAP—CRINKLE—SHHHHHH…FWAP—CRINKLE—SHH—FWIP-FWIP-FWIP-FWIP… A corner of the black tarp had just torn free... FWIP-FWIP-FWIP-FWIP-FWIP…

Dis is becomin' a habit.

Remy paused to see if the change in sound woke Kitty and Rogue. He stretched out his spatial sense, his kinesthetic sense, and felt for any extraneous movement in Kitty and Rogue's room, to see if they were stirring awake. He used it to feel for any change in their heat levels. It was like mental fingers slipping out from him, reaching through walls, floors, ceilings, and so on, and feeling the temperature differences of objects and the motion of objects those sort-of-mental-fingers came into contact with. This spatial sense, this kinesthetic sense, was an offset of his charging power. It was the link between his other two powers, his charging power and his charm power, and was the only power that nobody knew about. He was a thief at heart, a solitary scoundrel, and he just couldn't let go of the need to keep at least a few cards up his sleeve.

Dis be what? T'ree times dis week.

Satisfied that they had not stirred, he pocketed his knife. He was on the half-collapsed balcony around the corner from the larger-than-man-sized hole that was covered by the black tarp he had just cut loose. Deftly, he reached a hand around the corner, hooked his hand on the edge of the hole, and with catlike agility and grace he swung around and inside the girls' room. He did it without disturbing the fwip-fwip-fwipping of the tarp, without even permitting a sound from his feet landing on the carpet. He did it without giving away he was even there. He was a master thief, a professional thief before signing on under Magneto, so it wasn't even a chore to have slipped in unnoticed as he did.

Dis becomin' a real bad habit.

He slunk into the shadows of the room. He took up a post that gave him quick access to the door to the hall and to the hole in the wall he had entered. He had ensured a quick escape in case the need for one arose. His post also fulfilled his actual purpose for sneaking into the room. It gave him a complete view of the sleeping Rogue. Seeing her, being near her, that was the objective of this particular pinch this night. The end goal was to possess her heart. It was a pinch that was a challenge worthy of his skills.

_Dieu! She be l'ange noir… Tu es l'ange, chere… Mon ange?_

He stayed there for nearly an hour, just watching her, content in that action alone. He was sure she didn't know of his presence, though he was tempted more than once to let her know he was there. He wanted to lace his fingers through her hair. He wanted to hold her in his arms. He wanted to flutter her face with butterfly kisses and then her lips with… He stopped there. He couldn't do that. Nobody could. She was untouchable. And that only enticed him more. It upped the challenge she proposed to him. It also drew his sympathy, drew his heart toward her.

_Stop t'inking like dat, Remy. Never again, not for y'. Not since Bella Donna. _ He chided himself_. Love just ain't in de cards for y'._ He added sadly, resolutely. He didn't know it, couldn't have known it, but the resolution was closely akin to what Rogue had often chanted to herself. _Get outta here an' stick t' de toys, de femmes dat come an' go, _He instructed himself.

He didn't obey.

He didn't move from his post_. _

_C'mon Remy, go! She don't want not'ing t' do wit' y'. Why would she? You remind her of dat fight wit' Mags. De fight dat got her caught by Trask. De fight dat made her suffer in dat mad man's hands. So just go an' forget y' ever saw her. Forget about her. Forget about her. Forget about her… _

_You'll have t' fight her de next time Mags says so… _

_You cant' be worrying about her den. You have t' do y' job… So go!_

He still didn't move.

He sighed in defeat and settled in to just watch some more and be content with that much.

He was wrong in thinking that she didn't notice him. She did. One of her new powers plucked out his presence and plopped it into her awareness. She kept her eyes closed. She tried to keep her breathing steady. She tried to calm her pounding heart. It beat like hummingbird wings in her chest. It drummed in her ears so loudly she swore he had to hear it. He terrified her. Terrified her!

Why is he here? What does he want? Are the others with him? Is this anothah attack? Will Ah be captured again? Will Ah have to fight him? Punch him? Touch him? Will he touch me? Why is he just standing there? Is he watching me? Will he come near me? Does he want ta? Gawd, just go away, go away, go away. Just let me be alone. Let me be alone… Ah mean, leave me alone…

He felt her temperature rising with his spatial sense, which he had attuned to her as he watched her. If it had to be all the touch he could get from her, he'd take it. He kicked himself for craving even that much, kicked himself for indulging in it. But he still did it… it and more. Along with touching her with his spatial sense he touched her with his empathy, his charm power. At first he felt her troubled sleep, her swirling emotions from fitful dreams… or nightmares. But then it changed and he could feel the fear in her. And it was an immediate fear, different from dream fear. He felt her fear and something else… something else more…

_Could it be? Could she? Naw, Remy, y' don't have dat kind of luck._

But he latched onto that something else he felt. He latched onto it and pocketed it like he did with all his stolen treasures. He let it make him want more than just to watch her with his eyes and to feel her with his empathy and his spatial sense. He let it provoke him. He considered stepping out of the shadows, moving closer to her just to feel how she would react…

Oh Gawd, is he comin' closer? Why doesn't he just bothah Kitty and leave me be… Sorry Kitty… Just stay away… Ah don't wanna have ta hurt ya… Ah'm tired of hurtin' people…

Then he heard footsteps in the hall outside the door. The footsteps stopped suddenly and moved just outside the door to Kitty and Rogue's bedroom. The footsteps paused there for a long while as the owner of those footsteps presumably listened intently for sounds from inside.

Snikt! Claws popped, but Remy didn't hear them. Rogue knew what had happened and she winced.

Then the protector out in the hallway sniffed… It was loud enough for Remy and Rogue to hear. It startled Remy, angered him. It was ending his ecstasy.

Thank Gawd, Wolvie… Ya'll scare him off. Ah know ya will… Just don't come bustin' in here. Don't make me get up and acknowledge him… that he was watchin' me… Just scare him off.

Remy slunk silently across the room, crossing the gulf between him and her in a moment. Rogue caught her breath and Remy swore he heard it, but then Wolverine huffed angrily outside the door, preparing to burst in. Remy pawned off her sharp intake of breath as being a noise made by the person outside, the person ending his perfect evening. He reached a hand slowly toward her, to brush a stray snow-white hair from her brow…

The door burst open and Kitty snapped awake, jumping up in terror and surprise. Rogue remained frozen, hands clutched into fists under her heavy wool blanket, fearing that HE was still near her. Her panicked state was not lost on Wolverine as he surveyed the room that only contained the two people it was supposed to. Remy LeBeau, Gambit, the Ragin' Cajun, was no longer there. Like a thief in the night, he had disappeared, out the way he had entered, silently and swiftly, and with the same ache in his chest.

When Wolverine saw that Rogue wasn't stirring, that she was still pretending to sleep, he considered trying to talk to her about the uninvited visitor. Kitty, however, spoke first.

"What's wrong? What's happening? Why'd you, like, burst in here?" Kitty spat out as quickly as she could draw breath.

"Thought I heard something," Logan said gruffly.

When sounds of a fight didn't erupt in the room, but instead she heard the concerned, and still angry voice of Wolverine fill the silence that followed Kitty's exclamations, Rogue sat up, feigning grogginess like she'd just woken up. She carefully clutched the blanket in her lap, hands balled beneath the heavy wool blanket. Wolverine eyed her cautiously. He wasn't sure what to make of her faked waking from sleep. Was she trying to hide this from him, too? He knew she knew the intruder was in there with her and Kitty. He'd heard Rogue's racing heart beat. He'd heard her quickened breathing. He'd smelled her fear. He'd smelled her excitement. He'd smelled her anxiousness. He'd also smelled her lie; her pretending to just then be waking. He almost called her on it, when Kitty stopped him a second time by speaking.

"Rogue was like probably having like a nightmare," Kitty said as she glanced sympathetically at Rogue. "She's been having them like since she got back."

Wolverine raised a curious and concerned brow at Rogue. It was a question for her.

She glared at Kitty, and spat, "Ah was not!"

He smelled the anger rise in her then… and then something else… something much more disturbing. He stalked toward Rogue, to seek out the truth of that scent when she snapped her head around to face him. The feral look in her eyes actually stopped him. They held each other's gaze for a few seconds, both refusing to relent, when Kitty, once again broke the tension.

"What's going on, you guys?" Kitty asked with sincere curiosity and bewilderment.

Rogue and Logan held the challenging stare for a moment longer, when Rogue finally answered, "Nothin', Kitty. Ya'll were right. Ah just had a bad dream, is all." She flopped angrily back against her pillows. Nobody noticed that she kept her hands balled in her lap beneath the heavy wool blanket.

Wolverine eyed her with caution, curiosity and concern for a moment longer. Then he said, "Ya sure yer okay?" He addressed the question to both Rogue and Kitty, but he really meant it for Rogue. Kitty, he already was sure was fine. Rogue was the one with the apparent stalker and some other problems, all of which she was trying to keep secret from the rest of the X-Men.

"Fine," Kitty said, her tone reflecting the attitude of '_duh, isn't it obvious_.'

"Ah'm fahne," Rogue spat at him, "Now could ya get outta here so Ah can get back ta sleep. I have ta go ta school tomorrow, ya know."

Face it, Bub, yer not gonna get anything outta her… Not like this, anyway, Wolverine thought. He'd leave her for now, but he was determined to find a way to get it all out of her… Somehow.

When he didn't leave right away, Rogue huffed, and whipped the blanket up to cover her shoulders and part of her face. Kitty settled back under her covers in a less violent manner. Logan looked from Kitty's more peaceful form to Rogue's tense form. He didn't see the faint speckles of blood on the heavy wool blanket where it was taut around Rogue's balled fists. The blood was the disturbing scent he'd caught on her. There wasn't much blood, he could smell that; there was only a little more than she'd get from a few razor cuts while shaving her legs, so he knew it wasn't anything serious, anything life threatening. What he didn't know was that the cause for the blood was the thing she most wanted to hide from him.

Finally, Wolverine spun on his heels and left, closing the door behind him_. Might as well search the grounds for him,_ he grumbled to himself as he headed outside. _He sure got outta there pretty quick. Means he's good. But, I'm the best there is at what I do._

Wolverine had failed to notice the bone claw that had poked through the heavy wool blanket and punctured Rogue's pillow. It was one of six that Rogue now possessed… Just like Wolverine did… Only his were laced with adamantium like the rest of his skeleton.

None of them, not even Rogue, had noticed the playing card that was neatly tucked under Rogue's pillow.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

[1] English translations for all that French of Gambit's are as follows:

N'est-ce pas = isn't it

Toujours = always

D'accord = okay

Bonne nuit et bonne chance = Good night and good luck

Dieu! She be l'ange noir = Lord! She be a dark angel.

Tu es l'ange = You are an angel

Mon ange? = My angel?

* * *

**TIME LINE**

**- _14 days_** (2 weeks before DoR). Magneto briefs Remy, Piotr & St. John on the Brotherhood and X-Men members (Ch. 3, Pietro's memory). Pyro asks if Rogue's power is to imitate the dead (I love that!).

**_0 days_:** DAY OF RECKONING. 1st news broadcast of mutants. Rogue, Logan, Fred, and Hank are captured.

**_3 days_:** RAID ON THE INSTITUTE. Described briefly in prologue.

**_42 days_** (6 weeks): RESCUE. Mentioned in prologue. X-Men discover that Rogue has new permanent powers that allowed her to survive the warehouse collapsing on her and prevents Jean and Xavier from reading her mind (Ch. 1).

**_56 days_** (8 weeks): PROLOGUE. It is revealed that Xavier changed the memories of Bayville inhabitants to make them forget that the X-Men and Brotherhood were the mutants involved in the news broadcast of the giant Sentinel attack.

**_70 days_** (10 weeks): CHAPTER ONE. Rogue's 1st week back to school. Pietro tries to rescue Rogue from the dastardly Remy, who has so evilly trailed the Queen of Hearts card on her cheek. How horrible of him!

**_72 days_** (10 weeks and 2 days: CHAPTER TWO. Logan flashes back on his memories of the rescue, prompting him to confront Rogue about helping more with the reconstruction of the institute. Surprise, she's been avoiding using many of her new powers because she'd killed those whom she'd stolen them from.

**_84 days_** (12 weeks): CHAPTER THREE. Sleepless Pietro confronts Gambit outside the mansion. Gambit gives him advice wishes him luck with Rogue.

**_85 days_** (12 weeks and 1 day): CHAPTER THREE. Rogue skips out of the overcrowded breakfast and ends up being confronted by Scott. She explains how she hides her constant floating/flying, to keep from getting caught. Rogue/Pietro locker and lake scenes. Wanda tells Pietro he's without honor.

**_87 days_** (12 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER THREE. Gambit slices the tarp to sneak into Rogue and Kitty's room to watch Rogue sleep. He uses his spatial (kinesthetic) sense and empathic (charm) abilities as a way to 'touch' her. Rogue pretends he didn't wake her. Logan bursts in, missing Gambit. Smell's fresh blood on Rogue, but doesn't know it's because she popped a bone claw out ala Wolverine.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **So, have you noticed how I've conveniently avoided using words like "WALK" and "RUN" when it comes to Rogue? Hmm… I wonder why? Is there something still wrong with her legs? But, how could that be? She's apparently got Wolvie's bone claws, shouldn't she have his healing power? And for that matter, how could she have his mutations permanently without having killed him like it killed Carol Danvers? You'll just have to wait and see…

* * *

_Thank you for reading and reviewing._


	5. Chapter 04 Friend

**Callous**

**Chapter 04 – Friend**

Rogue was staring at the front of the mansion. She'd skipped school and had the whole mansion all to herself for once. It surprised her that Evan, Bobby, Jubilee, or Ray had skipped that day. Another first. None of the adults were even there. Storm was out running some mundane errands until the school day ended. Xavier, McCoy, and Wolverine were off at a first meeting with a certain Dr. Moira McTaggert that had frequented the news over the last week. She spoke of her research in genetics in an honestly neutral tone. She distinguished mutants and humans in two ways that had caught the world's attention in a not too pleasant way for her: mutated humans vs. non-mutated humans, and evolved humans vs. non-evolved humans. It was the _evolved _termination that had been the upset. People equated being evolved with being civilized so many took great offense that Dr. McTaggert's descriptions tagged the freaks of the world as being more evolved. Dr. McTaggert was taking the bad press over her cataloguing titles in stride. She didn't seem to care less about what people thought about her as long as they acknowledged her research. It was this perspective that had attracted Xavier's attention more so than her actual research. Though, in the weeks that were to follow, McTaggert's research would both intrigue and impress him all the more.

Rogue had chuckled to herself when she saw the report on the eleven o'clock news the previous night. Xavier had raised a brow in curiosity. Then he'd taken Wolverine, McCoy and Storm with him to have a private meeting. Rogue had listened in. She made her decision to skip school and perform her little surprise for the X-Men when she had heard Xavier say that he, McCoy and Wolverine would be leaving that morning to meet McTaggert while Storm would stay behind to chaperone the students still at the mansion. Rogue took the opportunity to earn some brownie points with everyone in the mansion by spending the day working on the mansion's reconstruction, since she'd be safely alone while doing it. She hoped this would help get everyone off her back and just leave her be so that she could get on with her life instead of always being reminded that she had suffered at the hands of Trask's security officers and doctors.

How can Ah resolve mahself ta mah situation with them like actin' like this? Every time they try ta console me, it only hurts more. Only makes me wish Ah could let them console me without being afraid Ah'd accidentally hurt them… or kill them.

But it was more than that. She did things like this… Friendly things like sticking up for Kurt against that bully… Or boosting Fred's hurt feelings when Jean had turned him down… Or shoving an X-Men member out of the way of the beam of Forge's invention while she was still a member of the Brotherhood [1]. What team they were on didn't matter. The people mattered. The individuals mattered. She cared about them. They were all her friends.

Not friends… acquaintances. They acknowledge that Ah exist and Ah acknowledge that they exist. That's all.

Rogue looked over the half-repaired mansion. She inhaled deeply, preparing herself for her task, and smiled. "That's all," she lied aloud.

She felt a tickle in her senses, in that place some people called intuition or instinct. Carol had called it her seventh sense. Rogue's evolution, her advanced civility—to mince McTaggert's and the general populace's theories—had fused the ability into her own DNA. It warned her of someone's approach. Wolverine's heightened senses told her who that someone was. Another power told her more… things she wanted to find out the normal way… by talking.

"Didn't ya learn ya lesson the other day?" Rogue said in time with the familiar whoosh of air.

"I'm here for purely selfish reasons, Roguey," Pietro said smirking as he stepped up beside her and looked to where she was looking.

"Ya didn't come ta check up on me when ya saw Ah wasn't in class?"

"Not at all. Jealous actually." He flashed her his '_I'm de bomb_' grin in challenge.

"Of what?" Rogue said, hoping that he didn't catch on to her anxiety at his question. She could feel the card she'd found under her pillow that morning (when Kitty bullied her into changing her sheets) like a pulse in the back pocket of her black jeans. No bigger than an ordinary playing card, it felt large and swollen and obvious to her_. How could Pietro not see it? _ The thought of it burned its presence into her, hot and immediate imaginings of HIS hand in its place.

"Figured you'd have to be having more fun than I was," Pietro answer her.

Rogue sighed in relief. At least that's how Pietro took it. That made him scowl. But he covered it quickly with his usual smirk… until it returned with Rogue's next question.

"Your sistah again?" She asked.

"Yeah… and the others still." Pietro stabbed the ground with his foot and looked to the sky when Rogue turned the weight of her penetrating emerald orbs on him in curiosity… and concern? "They were all laughs when I came back all soggy, but since then…"

"They don't trust ya around me…" she trailed off, like he had, and looked up to the mansion again.

Pietro looked over at her, now that she wasn't facing him, and just watched the white tendrils of hair wisp around her head. They were vying to diffuse into the others but the effort revealed them in stark contrast all the more. When the turning of Rogue's head nearly brought his bare hand into contact with her deadly skin he noticed that he had been stroking the lengths of those desperate streaks. He jerked his hand back and looked away to hide the blush…

_I'm-not-blushing-I'm-not-I'm-not-I'm-not!_

He peaked at her and caught her there; ice embracing emeralds.

_Damnit!-I-want-more-I-do… I do. _

They held each other like that, with their gazes, for seconds, each in a half-hidden view that clutched the other from the corners of yearning masked inside a callous veneer. It was heaven for an eternity when a second was forever to the demon of speed. It was rigid and probing and gaping. It was a vulnerable caress within a deniable perspective, and too intimately revealing their abrasive longings. They could chance no more without risks of unjust proportion. Thus, they held each other with their eyes while pretending that they weren't.

Rogue broke it. Long ago she'd realized that it was her responsibility. It was always left to her to stop the intimacy. Always.

She moved toward the mansion calling back, "Can't promise it'll be fun, but long as your here, ya gonna help."

Pietro was more than happy to do so.

* * *

"Aye, 'tis a grand risk ye taeking by meetin' with me, Professor…Xavier, isn't it?" A grin broadened Dr. McTaggert's rosy cheeks when she saw Xavier's eyebrows rise in surprise. "Nay, I didnae see the incident on the news, Professor, but ach, I did hear about it… and about ye school for the gifted. There haeve been rumors circulatin' about it in the research world. Frankly, I'm surprised yer still open after that incident, though." She pushed her glasses up on her nose and narrowed her gaze at him when she continued, "That's a right tolerant town ye live in." She punctuated it with a challenging grin. A friendly challenging grin.

Logan huffed and Xavier raised a passive hand to keep him at bay.

"Not as tolerant as we would have liked, I'm afraid to say," responded Xavier. Then he offered her a truly amused smile when he added, "But something tells me that you already knew that." He watched her form a conspiring smile before he succumbed that she wouldn't give up any information freely, and said, "Rumors… I see… Quid pro quo?"

She moved around to the front of her desk, sat on it and crossed her arms over her stomach. "Aye, Professor, there nae too many evolved humans jumping up tae help us geneticists." She smiled. _This is going to be fun._

Xavier couldn't stop Logan from getting by him that time. "No go, lady. No way we're gonna let ya dissect the kids."

"Surely, you jest," McCoy said. He too had undergone experiments while imprisoned. He had no desire to start that up again. Even if they were less intrusive, less volatile.

Xavier watched Moira's response carefully. She sighed, thankful. She'd been testing his priorities: Revenge (or justice, as he would've labeled it) versus Protection of his students. He'd answered correctly. THEY had answered correctly. "Why are ye here, Professor, McCoy, Logan?" She didn't back away from Logan at all. "I'm strictly intae research, naething more. I do nae have political clout and I have e'en less political interests. I do nae want ta be part of yer crusade."

"But others do," Xavier stately simply as he waved Logan back from Dr. McTaggert.

McTaggert sighed again, but this time there was defeat in it. "Aye… others do. And worse."

"You've seen the research involving some of my students?"

"Aye."

"Anything been published?"

"Nae publicly, but it's there, it's available ta a select few."

"Scientists and doctors at the forefront of the field."

"Aye."

"Like you."

"Aye."

"I need those files, Dr. McTaggert. I need to protect my students."

Her head snapped up at that. "And I need research. Personally, I do nae care one wit about what those twits on the telly think about me. But professionally, it matters. So, quid pro quo."

"A trade." It was a question, though, really. And it was weary.

"Aye, a trade."

She watched Xavier and Logan's nonverbal, but unmistakable response. They didn't like what she was proposing. They weren't about to offer the students up to her, despite her public appearance, after what some of the students had suffered under Trask's authority. They needed a boon, something to show her good will, that she was trustworthy, and most importantly, that the trade she could offer would be worth it. She knew exactly what to give them.

"New Orleans. Jean-Luc LeBeau. Use a thief tae catch a thief," she said. She almost laughed at their shocked expressions. That definitely wasn't what they were expecting… and she knew it. She moved back behind her desk and smiled once more. _Very fun indeed._

"You recommending a thief to us?" McCoy asked. He was clearly taken aback.

She nodded as she pulled out a card and handed it to Xavier. "Show this and he'll see ye."

Xavier looked over the card. It was an ordinary business card with all the necessary information needed to contact her. On the back was the name 'Jean-Luc LeBeau.' Below the name were the initials 'NOTG' and below that two more words, 'Antiquary Propriety.'

* * *

Rogue looked over at Pietro struggling with the brick and mortar… and laughed. A good hearty belly laugh that wracked her body and sent tears spilling down her eyes. They'd been at it for an hour, and all Pietro had accomplished was to prove how little talent he had in the building arts. Pietro's only response to Rogue's outburst was an honestly confused expression. He had no clue.

Rogue laughed harder, but managed to stammer in between gasps for air, "Good thing you're a mutant terrorist, ya'll would nevah make it in construction."

Pietro looked at the mess he was making with the mortar. Sure the bricks weren't completely even. Sure the mortar spilled down the wall in chunky globs_. But I work quickly. That has to count for something._

"Pietro, sugah," she said, pointing to the wall he had been repairing. Not one row of bricks lined up with the row below it. "Ah don't know whether they'd want ta thank me or strangle me for this."

"It'll hold," Pietro said, re-examining his work. _It really is pitiful, actually._ He chuckled.

"It's bad," Rogue said.

"But what choice do you have. You want it done today, to surprise them, right?"

Rogue stopped laughing then. It wasn't abrupt. It dwindled out as she looked over the amount of work that the mansion still required. "Ah may be in ovah mah head with this one. Ah'll just have ta get by on what Ah can get finished today."

"Too bad you don't have my speed," Pietro said, grinning mischievously. _All-it-would-take-is-one-kiss… I-mean-touch… one-touch… handtohand._

"Don't even think it, speedy," Rogue glared.

He shrugged, hiding his blush with a nod at his poor craftsmanship with the brick and mortar, then said, "Or that I don't have your expertise."

Rogue gave him a questioning glance. _Does he know? Why would he say that if he didn't know?_

He tossed a glance over to the bucket of nails and the hammer. "Guess I'll have to stick to that."

Rogue grinned broadly. Pietro noticed how her eyes sparkled when she smiled. It lit up her whole face. He wished he could make it last forever. Then he thought of something else. "I can paint too," he said and nearly beamed when she brightened even more.

* * *

"Hey, Evan," Fred Dukes, the Blob, said sheepishly when he reached the lunch table where some of the X-Men were congregated. "Could you give this to Rogue… I, uh, made it for her in wood shop… to say thanks, you know… I wanted to give it to her myself, but she's not here [2]." He held a Hope Chest in his beefy hands. It looked small compared to him, but it was a full-fledged Hope Chest.

Evan began, "I don't think I can carry that, man, but—"

"What do you mean she's not here?" Scott said cutting off Evan.

Fred looked like a deer in headlights when he said, "I looked for her, you know, to give it to her, but all her teachers said she wasn't here today." A new thought formed, a scarier thought, and he asked, "She's okay, isn't she? Nothing happened to her, right?"

Scott was about to throw a fit until he heard that last part. Then he became worried. _Rogue really wasn't doing all that great since she got back. What if something did happen? The Professor and Jean had been worried about the psyches possibly lingering in her head. That Carol woman, especially. Maybe something _did_ happen._

_~"Jean, can you locate Rogue anywhere?"~_

Jean was reading a passage of Keats aloud in her English class. She snapped up from the text, surprised by Scott's voice in her head via the close rapport that had been developing between them over the last few months. She quickly finished the passage then sat down.

_~"No, Scott. But, I haven't been able to sense much of anything from her most of the time. The Professor either. Why do you ask?"~_

_~"She hasn't been to any of her classes today."~_

_~"You think something happened?"~_

_~"I don't know. Maybe she's just skipping."~_

_~"That's probably it. Crowds have been getting to her lately. She probably just went off to be by herself."~_

_~"I knew something was up when she rode with us this morning. But, I brushed it off. Thought I was being paranoid."~_

_~"I'll get a pass and meet you in five minutes. Don't go off before I get there. Want me to contact the others?"~_

_~"No. Kurt and Kitty are here with me. Blob, too—don't ask. Meet us here then we'll look for her together."~_

_~"Okay, Scott. And don't worry. We'll find her."~_

"What does Jean say," Kitty asked when Scott turned to them. Kurt and Evan waited expectantly for Scott's answer.

"She can't find her," Scott said.

"I'll check the bathrooms," Kitty offered as she turned to head off. Scott's voice stopped her.

"Wait for Jean before we split up," Scott said.

A few minutes later, Jean arrived. They did split up then. Jean and Kitty checked the locker rooms and the bathrooms. Kurt checked the art room and music room. Evan went out to the tree she always sat under. Fred went with Scott to the Institute. Scott figured they could kill two birds with one stone that way, search for Rogue and bring the Hope Chest that only Blob and Rogue, herself, could carry easily.

* * *

Pietro was dangling dangerously off the side of the third story. He was hammering, of course… since all he could do was hammer and paint, when he slipped. Rogue caught him in an instant. But the speed she'd flown to reach him made it impossible for her to stop quickly enough. They both slammed into the wall. Rogue turned them just in time so that she, invulnerable as she was, would take the brunt of the impact. She winced when she felt the wall crumble under the force of their collision. _One more thing we don't have enough time to fix._

She held onto to him tightly, being very careful not to crush him with her strength. Pietro wasn't even tense in her arms. He tilted his head back to face her, his cheek nearly pressed under her chin. He felt her breath hitch at their closeness.

He whispered, "See, I always knew you wanted me."

She nearly dropped him in response. He did tense then. A vision of plummeting into the lake slapped him.

Huffing indignantly, she lowered him, letting the loosed bricks tumble down with them. Thud, thud, thud, thud… They hit the grass harder than Pietro did, when she dropped him, five feet off the ground. She wasn't punishing him. She'd snagged her jeans on a protruding nail, and didn't want to chance taking down the rest of the wall with the force of carelessly jerking off it. Pietro looked up from his unceremonious landing, confused and pride a little wounded… that is, until he saw Rogue's predicament. Then he laughed.

"Ha, ha, Pietro," Rogue mocked him sarcastically. "Don't know what ya find so funny. It's your bad carpentry that's caused this… not ta mention your poor balance." She twisted awkwardly to get a look at how she was snagged. The angle was bad and she didn't trust herself to blindly yank on it, not when she'd remembered ruining so many locker doors. "A little help, please."

Pietro stood up and reached to unhook her. He stopped short when he saw where he'd have to touch her. "It's hooked on your back pocket."

"So unhook it," she said. Her annoyance grew with her embarrassment of being stuck to the wall ten feet up.

Pietro avoided her eyes, bit his lip, and set to work. A warmth crept through him when his hand brushed the inside of her pocket. She jerked from the brief contact… tearing the pocket clean off. Pietro stifled another bout of laughter. He really didn't want to go for another swim in the lake. Rogue laughed too, though, as she inspected her torn pants. But then her laughter died though with the thought that had spurned it… _That's me, alright… torn._

And then… she freaked out. _Oh, no, the card! What would Pietro say if he saw it? _She searched all over the ground furiously.

"Looking for this?" Pietro asked, his voice taking a distinctively angrier tone.

Great, he's pissed. Bet he won't stay and help now.

He turned the card over and read it. It was solid black and glossy. It was shaped like a playing card. It was a playing card. Just like Gambit uses. On one side was the King of Spades in shiny red printing, just like on a regular playing card. On the back, in the same shiny red printing, was the name of a club called 'Spades' and its address, handwritten in silver ink was, 'Friday, 10 pm.'

"Is this what all this is really about?" He interrogated her. "Is it? You want to get in their good graces so you can meet up with lover-bayou? Is-this-what-I-was-helping-you-for?" He was speed yelling by the last question.

He looked so hurt Rogue didn't know what to say. She wasn't expecting him to look hurt. Angry, she expected. A lecture, she expected, but not the shattered veneer before her.

"Tell me you're not going?" He pleaded through gritted teeth. "That you're not even considering it." It was obvious he was struggling to control his rate of speech. "Tell me you meant-to-throw-it-away." His control was slipping. "That-you-ARE-throwing-it-away."

Rogue lowered her eyes to the ground. Hovering as she was, she looked like a defeated puppy.

Pietro's voice was very quiet, very deliberately slow, when he asked again, "You're not meeting him, right? You wouldn't do that to me."

"To you?!" Rogue's eyes snapped up to match the level of anger in her voice. "I'm not doing anything ta ya. Shoulda known. Egotistical Pietro always thinkin' of himself. You're just like him, ya know? Yer both too cocky for yer own good; won't take the hint and leave me alone. Gawd, Quickie, ya don't know anything. Ya think ah want him showing up everywhere? Huh? I wanna get rid of him once and for all!"

It clicked then. She wanted to complete the rebuilding as a surprise… the card as an invitation… running into Gambit on the road outside the institute grounds. He turned and stomped around the corner to look at a portion of the wall on the second floor that Rogue had insisted they complete first.

"That's your room isn't it?" He said, more than asked, loud enough for her to hear from where he'd left her. He hadn't bothered to check if she'd followed him; just assumed she had.

He was bound and determined to tear up her defense, shred it like the image he held in his mind of dispatching the Cajun, ripping him to shreds. He turned to face her so he could do the best he could at the moment and do it right in front of her. He held the card up for her to watch him tear it up. For the moment, that would have to be enough. Later, though…

Later, I'll wait for Gambit to show up here again, and then I'll really get rid of him once and for all.

Continuing his cruel rant: "He's been in there, hasn't he? Did he break in or did you let him in?" He didn't give Rogue a chance to answer. "Let him in, I bet. Invited him in… He has great control of that charm power of his."

"Charm power?" Rogue squawked.

Pietro turned to face her then. She'd probably been ready to pound him good and snatch back the card until he stung her shocked with that bit of information. He narrowed his eyes dangerously on her. He liked having this over him, over her, and he was sooo going to bait her with it. He started to twist and tug the corners of the card—"You know, like he used on you during that fight. You remember, the fight that got you captured."

Tears trembled at the edges of her eyes as she fought to keep them from falling. "Yer an asshole!"

It was the last thing in the world he wanted to be anymore. His fingers lost their strength and he could barely keep lifting the card, let alone tear it. If her tears fell, they'd take the rest of his strength with them.

She yanked it out of his hand. She rose up, intending to fly off.

"Don't go," Pietro said quietly.

He never got the chance to find out if she heard him—if she stayed because he'd asked her to—because someone else called her too.

"She's over here!" Blob called out as he saw them.

Pietro and Rogue turned to watch him approach. Blob was still carrying the Hope Chest. Scott rounded the corner and jogged up to join them as well. Rogue hurriedly hid the card in her remaining back pocket. Pietro noticed. He snorted and tossed his head up in disgust.

"What's going on?" Scott asked as he saw the hostility between Pietro and Rogue.

"Nothing," Rogue snapped.

"Sure, nothing," Scott sighed. "So why aren't you at school?"

Blob put down the Hope Chest and lumbered up to Pietro. "And what are you doing here?" He punctuated each word with a finger poked into Pietro's chest.

Rogue scowled, and said, "Leave him alone, Fred. He was just helping me with somethin'."

Pietro's snapped his head around to eye her in a mixture of surprise and confusion. Why'd-she-just-stick-up-for-me? She-wanted-to-strangle-me-a-second-ago?

"You sure, Rogue?"

"Yeah, Ah'm sure."

"Doing what?" Scott asked. The BoM may have taken Pietro back in, but Scott wasn't about to trust him alone with any of the X-Men just yet… despite what he'd done to help rescue Rogue and the others from Trask [3].

Rogue lifted higher in the air and gestured to the completed sections of the mansion's repairs. "Surprise." It was droll.

Scott took his first good look at the mansion since he'd gotten there. He'd been so caught up in looking for Rogue, he hadn't noticed the fresh repairs. They had gotten a lot done. "Wow…" Was all he could get out. "I mean… really. You two did all this?"

Rogue scowled again. "Don't get too excited, Cyke. Ah made a new whole while we were at it."

"Pietro really helped?" Fred asked. There was more suspicion in his voice than Rogue had ever heard in it… even more than she'd ever heard in Cyke's. Rogue covered her grin with a layer of her hair. She got it under control a moment later.

"Yeah, I did," Pietro said. He was trying for intimidation, but it came out kind of sheepish. He covered by narrowing his eyes on Cyke, then Fred, and asking fiercely, "What of it?"

Rogue decided to diffuse the situation before it escalated for no good reason other than stupid pride. "What ya got there, Freddie?" She asked.

Fred looked from Scott to Pietro, then back to Scott. When he saw they weren't going anywhere, he bowed his head and said, "I made it for you."

_Aww, it's almost cute. He's shy… embarrassed._ Rogue cleared her throat.

Scott eventually caught on that Rogue wanted to be alone with Fred, to ease Fred's shyness. Scott scrambled for something to say, finally coming up with, "Hey, Pietro, why don't I take you to lunch…" He tripped out the rest, "To say thanks for helping Rogue out."

Pietro eyed Scott in distrust, but when Rogue threw him a glare, he submitted.

"Food?" Fred piped up. Scott had to stifle a laugh. Wasn't hard since Rogue turned the glare from Pietro to him.

"They'll bring us back something," Rogue said. "Won't ya, Cyke?"

Scott nodded and then he dragged Pietro off with him.

Once they were out of sight and earshot, Rogue walked up and really admired the Hope Chest. "It's beautiful, Freddie," she said with absolute sincerity.

It really was excellent craftsmanship. It was solid pine… the only wood the school provided for the shop class since it was fairly inexpensive. He'd stained it with a dark cherry finish. There weren't drip marks anywhere. There was a carving on the top and on all the corners. It was obviously specifically designed to fit Rogue's personality since the carving wasn't some elaborate concoction of swirls or flowers. Instead it was flames. They were even stained a slightly more orangey-reddish finish. It made Rogue grin.

She lifted the top of the chest. The smell of cedar sweetened the air. The entire interior was lined with it. She'd always loved the smell of that wood. And the color, too, like the fiery sunsets she used to watch reflecting off the Mississippi.

Rogue peered inside. The first thing she saw in it was an old fashioned handmade quilt. She lifted the quilt out carefully; treating it like it was most delicate butterfly wings. The patches were embroidered with names and birth and death dates. Rogue looked at Freddie in shock.

"It's what it looks like," he said. It was a family quilt. His family quilt. He skimmed over that personal part, unfolding the quilt further to point out a particular patch. Below Freddie's name and birth date was embroidery that took up three entire squares, centered. Framed by two flames were the words, 'Rogue, The Southern Spitfire, my friend.'

Rogue looked at him in awe. Then she clutched the quilt to her chest… and remembered. There was significance to this gift.

The guards had dropped him in his cell after yet another battery of experiments. They had been testing the resilience of the Blob's invulnerability… meaning they were submitting his skin to varying tortures. He hit the floor with a muffled SPLAT and didn't move. Rogue glared at the retreating guards, one of whom, winked.

"Don't worry, honey buns, you're turn's coming up again," the guard said after he winked.

Rogue spat at him from between the bars. Both guards just laughed.

"Ya'll won't be laughing when Ah get outta here. Ya'll be dead."

Their laughter stopped cold.

Cold. That was the form of the latest test of Blob's invulnerability. Rogue realized this as soon as she looked Fred over once the guards were gone.

_Stupid shits. His skin's impenetrable. His stature's immovable. He ain't resistant to hypothermia. _

She reached between the bars that separated their cells and tested his temperature with her bare skin. She didn't even marvel over the skin-to-skin contact. That wasn't even on her mind. For once, it wasn't her concern, not after eight days of wearing a suppression collar. His skin was like ice, but there was a heady warmth deep below it. He was developing one heck of a fever. She reached her arm in further, till her shoulder squeezed between the bars painfully, as she tried to maneuver him onto his back so she could get a better look at him. It wasn't her strength that turned him. She was wearing a collar. Plus, the strength hadn't been forced into her yet. She hadn't even a conception of it yet. He had turned on his own.

"C-c-c-ol-ol-d-d-d," He quivered.

"Ah know, sugah," Rogue said, soothing him, "But Ah need ta see what else they did ta ya. Can ya move closer?"

He didn't answer. He slowly shifted his girth against the bars. He flinched expecting the bars to be cold against his skin. They had always been cold.

"Warm…" he said.

It made Rogue cringe it came out so cozily… like he'd sipped from a mug of hot cocoa with fluffy marshmallows.

"Damnit," she muttered.

She had to get him warm. The bars felt like ice against her body, just a little colder than his skin had felt. It wasn't a good thing that he thought they felt warm. It was worse than she thought. Rogue pushed harder between the bars to get the best angle at inspecting any other wounds he may have. She stifled a gasp when she saw the burn marks on his chest. They were round red splotches. There were half a dozen of them or so. Two of them looked crispy.

"What did they do, Fred?"

She listened to his answer as she tore off strips from her uniform—they hadn't yet changed her clothes either—and dipped them in the, unfortunately, cold water in her surprisingly clean toilet. She was already dabbing the wounds, cleaning as best she could with the poor materials she had as he finally managed to squeak out, "E-e-e…" He took in a sharp breath when she dabbed one of the crispy burns. "Lec…" he tried again. He banged his head against the concrete floor with his frustration. Rogue caught his forehead to stop him from injuring himself further.

"Shhh. It's okay. I understand," she assured him as she wiped the cool cloth across his forehead.

He sighed, relieved.

_Shock. They stupid shock froze him then fed him electricity._

She finished cleaning up the burns then grabbed the blanket off her mat, and all the other bedding too. The little there was. She gently lifted his heavy head and scooted her pillow under it. She pushed her blanket between the bars and spread it over him as best she could. Then she begged as many blankets from as many other prisoners that she could. Few turned down Rogue's urgency.

There was a strange hope in the passing of blankets between the cells.

Rogue folded the quilt back up and placed it in the chest. As she went to lower the lid, she saw the engraving on its underside. It read, 'A place to store your wealth of hope ~ When you're not too busy loaning them out.'

Rogue was overwhelmed. She couldn't even bring herself to look him in the eye. She couldn't even let him see her smile because that would soften the adamantium reserve she had built up… that she had earned. Somehow, Fred recognized this, so he grazed right by any thanks she could possibly muster.

"One more thing," he said. He was beaming. She could hear the sunshine in his voice.

He gently pulled her back from the chest so he could reach his favorite part of his gift to her. His hand slid along the bottom lip of the chest. A small lever was released and he pulled out a hidden drawer. The deception was incredibly successful. Rogue hadn't even noticed that the bottom of the chest was higher than it should have been on the inside.

The drawer was no more than three inches deep. It was lined with velvet the color of blood. In it rested a dazzling array of shining weapons in concave displays. There were four blades. They were small, specifically chosen for Rogue's small hands to handle. They were accompanied by matching sheaths designed to strap onto both her forearms and her thighs. There was also a gun. A small Firestar with an inner pants holster beside it. A cluster of bullets ran a row above and below the gun and its holster.

"'Cause sometimes hope ain't enough," Rogue whispered. It was engraved on a tiny brass placard screwed in on top of the velvet at the uppermost right corner of the drawer.

"Yeah," Fred said. Even remembered, his sorrow was palpable.

Those were the exact words Fred had said to her after Rogue's first punishment for spouting off at the guards while trying to protect the others… and not just Fred, Evan, McCoy, and Logan, either. Though it was because of Fred and Logan that the first punishment was administered.

The guards had returned with one of the doctors about half an hour after Fred had been dumped in his cell. They had been surprised to see all the blankets and pillows piled on and around Fred in an attempt to keep him warm and break his fever. They were more shocked to see all the prisoners pressed against the bars to watch Fred's recovery. There was a vigor to them that hadn't existed in a while. When the guards took in Rogue's ministrations of Fred, which she strayed from since the guards and doctor had entered, they knew exactly whom the culprit was behind that renewed vigor.

Rogue was ignoring the guards and the doctor effectively. She was sitting against the bars, one hand stoking Fred's hair through the bars. She was humming to him softly. It was an unintelligible tune. It had neither words nor melody. It was a string of comfort, dulcet links of her hominy refusal [4]. She ignored them still when they unlocked her cage and stalked inside. She only acknowledged them when she was yanked off the floor and dragged out of her cell. And then, it was to spit in their faces, specifically, the face of the one who had winked at her earlier. He grinned as he wiped her spittle off his face with the sleeve of his uniform. Then he whispered to another guard, who left and returned moments later with two more guards carrying a sedated Logan.

While the remaining guards were slapping around Rogue and the other guard was retrieving Logan, Fred watched from blackened eyes as the doctor administered the necessary medical attention with the gentility of Frankenstein. Rogue's only reaction to the sight of Logan was the grim clenching of her jaw and the diamond hardening of her glare. The winking guard responded with a punch to her cheek and a bark of laughter at the blood she spat out. But, that's when the real punishment started. At least that was what Fred had thought at the time.

Two guards held Rogue in place, her back to the wall so she would have a clear view. The two guards carrying Logan propped him in a chair. Four guards pulled a limp, though awake, Fred from the doctor's treatment. Winking guy whispered orders to the doctor, who, without one word or expression of protest, followed the new orders. He pulled a strange device from his bag. It fit onto Logan's hand and latched closed with three clicks. It looked like the housing of Edward Sissorhand's hands. A few tweaks here and there, and SKINT, out popped Logan's claws. The device's sole purpose was to coax the claws out while Logan was unconscious and wearing an inhibitor collar.

Fred's eyes begged Rogue for help as the four guards held him down and Logan's claws were brought closer and closer to his bulbous stomach. Fred had a collar on. His skin was by no means impervious right then.

"Don't," Rogue said. It was colder than Fred's skin had been.

Winking guy laughed. "What ya gonna do, mutie girl?" He flicked the collar on her neck. "Ya ain't gotcha freak powers." He trailed the barrel of his gun down her arm. Only in America would they give guns to guards watching over super powered beings. "There ain't nothing to ya. You're all skin and bones."

Rogue ground her feet into the floor and squared her shoulders. The guards jerked her back, but it changed nothing of the fight in her. "Ah won't always have this collar on."

"Then what? Huh?" He leaned in closer to her, bent down to meet her eyes. "What kind of freak are ya?" He glanced from her to the picture on the small clipboard that hung on the outside of her cell; the picture had been taken when she was first admitted into Trask's institution. He looked over the white makeup that had been flaking and sweating off her, at the dark lipstick that was thin enough to see the natural pink underneath, and the black eyeliner that was smeared with the running mascara. Armed with that image, he guessed, "You some kind of vampire? Gonna suck the life out of me?"

_If he only knew how close he was._ Rogue smirked and said, "Something like that."

"Dream on, freak," he scoffed. "Probably got the power to piss yourself." He nodded to the guard controlling Logan's claws.

What the guards didn't know, but Fred did, was that Rogue was used to fighting without super powers. She despised her mutant ability to absorb others and used it only as a last resort. She was always covered up, too, so even if she got close enough to use it, her adversary had to be prone enough, or taken by enough surprise for her to slip a glove off. Because of these things, Rogue had been trained to fight up close and personal. She had to. She was no powerhouse… not at this point, at least.

When the first trickle of blood escaped the wound made by Logan's claws, Rogue stomped down on the foot of one of his guards. She elbowed him in his nose when he loosened his grip and bowed over in pain. The second blow sent him reeling. Her third blow caught her other guard in his knees as he tried to wrangle Rogue under his control. An arm tightening around her neck and the barrel of a gun to her temple halted her, though.

"All I needed was an excuse," the winking man said, "To keep the boss man off my back." He winked at her, "Thank you."

_Logan's lucky. He doesn't have to watch,_ Fred had mused ruefully.

Rogue's ankles were strapped down to the arms of a sturdy chair. Still, Rogue struggled enough that two of the guards had a hold of either side to hold it steady. Her arms where bound behind her, and her torso down to her upper thighs were held down on the threadbare cot by two other guards. Winking guy raised the aluminum bat.

_Aluminum bat? Where'd he get that?_ Fred remembered wondering that all too clearly.

SWACK! The bat cracked across her shins. Rogue screamed. Chaos ensued. Prisoners hollered. Fred fought with all his weary might, Logan stirred, but only got in one good blow before the doctor sedated him once more. In the end, Rogue had broken bones in both her legs, Logan was sedated and removed from the room, and a battered and bruised Blob acquired a broken chunk from a pair of the doctor's glasses that he managed to hide from the guards. He'd shown Rogue the shard, beaming with pride, after her whimpers had died down. They'd left her untreated for a long time, to make her suffer more. All she could do was lie there on the floor, just a few feet in from her left open (to further the torture, since she couldn't get up and walk out it) cell door.

He reached through the bars and held the shard so that it would catch the little light there was in the room. He needed her to understand what it meant. Once he was sure she'd seen it, he said, "Hope ain't always enough."

That was the first time Rogue had stood up for one of the prisoners. It was the first time she'd had her legs broken. It was by no means the last of it or the worst of it. And it sure wasn't the cause of the dilemma with her legs that she was now in. Yeah, Fred had noticed that she hadn't put weight on them in all the time they'd been free of that place. He hadn't seen exactly how it happened, but he had an idea. He'd been with her before and after it had happened… the real cause of her healing problems. He wasn't going to squeal to Xavier, the X-Geeks, or even any of the Brotherhood for that matter. He owed her that much, at least. More really. He owed her more than the Hope Chest or the quilt. He owed her his trust. He knew he wouldn't always be able to stand by it, stand by her. They were on opposite sides despite the strained alliance they had formed. But keeping this secret he could do. He'd hold it forever, if she asked it.

Of course, he still wished she'd get help.

Rogue finally met Fred's gaze. When she did so, she felt the presence of the card in her pocket again. This time it burned like betrayal.

* * *

Gambit sat on the love seat in the corner. A warm red light highlighted him in the otherwise dark recess of the club, Spades. His Diable Blanc eyes shone with purpose and patience. He was the essence of power, control, and sensual appeal. He had spent the night in this same spot, sipping rum and coke after rum and coke, and turning away one girl after another. For every one he turned away, two more approached him.

He put on his sunglasses to protect his sensitive eyes moments before the house lights came on. The club was closing and the employees needed to see to clean up for the night. Behind the cover of the dark glasses, Remy LeBeau shut his eyes. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and stood. He was again the cocky, suave, Ragin' Cajun… He was Gambit once more.

He paused briefly at the door on his way out. "Anot'er time, petite. Next week, maybe?"

And then he was gone, a thief in the night.

* * *

Rogue went to sleep that night satisfied that she had accomplished her goal for the day. She was a friend to all of them, but nobody's friend. She was separate, a solitaire, distanced from all. But, she still cared.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

[1] All three acts of friendship and caring occurred in different episodes (I think).

[2] No, Fred does not have a crush on Rogue. He considers her his friend, and he, hers.

[3] That will be told when I write more on the escape… coming up soon, I promise, just not this chapter.

[4] Hominy—Webster's College Dictionary definition—(uncommon usage), that which is ground or beaten, usually referring to ground corn.

* * *

**TIME LINE**

**- **_**14 days**_ (2 weeks before DoR). Magneto briefs Remy, Piotr & St. John on the Brotherhood and X-Men members (Ch. 3, Pietro's memory). Pyro asks if Rogue's power is to imitate the dead (I love that!).

_**0 days**_**:** DAY OF RECKONING. 1st news broadcast of mutants. Rogue, Logan, Fred, and Hank are captured.

_**3 days**_**:** RAID ON THE INSTITUTE. Described briefly in prologue.

_**8 days**_ (1 week and 1 day): Rogue convinces the prisoners to pass their blankets to Fred resulting in punishment from the guards: forcing an unconscious Logan's claws to pierce a collared Fred's skin and breaking Rogue's legs (Ch. 4).

_**42 days**_ (6 weeks): RESCUE. Mentioned in prologue. X-Men discover that Rogue has new permanent powers that allowed her to survive the warehouse collapsing on her and prevents Jean and Xavier from reading her mind (Ch. 1).

_**56 days**_ (8 weeks): PROLOGUE. It is revealed that Xavier changed the memories of Bayville inhabitants to make them forget that the X-Men and Brotherhood were the mutants involved in the news broadcast of the giant Sentinel attack.

_**70 days**_ (10 weeks): CHAPTER ONE. Rogue's 1st week back to school. Pietro tries to rescue Rogue from the dastardly Remy, who has so evilly trailed the Queen of Hearts card on her cheek. How horrible of him!

_**72 days**_ (10 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER TWO. Logan flashes back on his memories of the rescue, prompting him to confront Rogue about helping more with the reconstruction of the institute. Surprise, she's been avoiding using many of her new powers because she'd killed those whom she'd stolen them from.

_**84 days**_ (12 weeks): CHAPTER THREE. Sleepless Pietro confronts Gambit outside the mansion. Gambit gives him advice wishes him luck with Rogue.

_**85 days**_ (12 weeks and 1 day): CHAPTER THREE. Rogue skips out of the overcrowded breakfast and ends up being confronted by Scott. She explains how she hides her constant floating/flying, to keep from getting caught. Rogue/Pietro locker and lake scenes. Wanda tells Pietro he's without honor.

_**87 days**_ (12 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER THREE. Gambit slices the tarp to sneak into Rogue and Kitty's room to watch Rogue sleep. He uses his spatial (kinesthetic) sense and empathic (charm) abilities as a way to 'touch' her. Rogue pretends he didn't wake her. Logan bursts in, missing Gambit. Smell's fresh blood on Rogue, but doesn't know it's because she popped a bone claw out ala Wolverine. Gambit left a card with a note on it (see Ch. 4) for her.

_**90 days **_(12 weeks and 6 days). News report/interview with non-mutant Dr. Moira McTaggert of the Muir Island Research Center catches Xavier's attention.

_**91 days **_(13 weeks): CHAPTER FOUR. Xavier, Logan & Hank meet with Moira McTaggert, who, to inspire faith in her so they could work out a trade of services, gives them guaranteed contact to Jean-Luc for the hiring of a thief to track down some of Trask's files. Rogue and Pietro skip school and spend the afternoon on the mansion's reconstruction by themselves. Pietro throws a fit when he finds the card from Gambit. Fred gives Rogue the Hope Chest. Gambit again waits futilely in Spades for Rogue (Gambit's note on the card he gave her in Ch. 3).

* * *

_Thank you for reading and reviewing._


	6. Chapter 05 Mile

**Author's Note: **This chapter contains a lot of dialogue in French and Cajun slang. These are translated in the footnotes at the end of the chapter. For those of you not well versed in French, the individual sentences are translated in the Footnotes at the bottom. You don't need the translations though if you don't want to bother with them because it's sort of my purpose to put you in the mindset of the other characters in these scenes since they do not understand what is being said. Now, settle in for a long haul. This chapter is monstrous. !_!

* * *

**Callous**

**Chapter 05 – Mile**

It was all so familiar. For the third week in a row, Remy LeBeau waited. The same club, the same love seat, the same drinks, the same music, the same girls, and the same lack of reply to his invitation. This week he stayed later than he ever had before, waiting. Much later. After the club closed, he tucked himself into the cleft between this building and the next to wait even more. Just in case. It was all so quiet. All was neglected. The emptiness scoffed at the life that had filled the streets only a short few hours before. The streetlights mocked the grand entrance he had imagined she would make. They mimicked theater spots, showcasing that which _wasn't_ present on his stage, his leading lady. The only consolation he had was the number of spots lining the road. He wasn't the only one waiting.

He carried on, like a good actor does, continuing the play despite the missed cue. Under the spot he stood, not even remembering moving there. He was in character, wasn't he? But was he his own character or one that was made up? He looked up, as though for inspiration, as though accusing the light for not being bright enough for her when he knew it was his story that wasn't true enough and his play not important enough. He didn't pose an attractive enough offer for her. So, he stood there staring into the light that stung his oh so oversensitive eyes. It made a good excuse for the sting that somewhat threatened to water his eyes.

A flicker further down the street drew his attention. A streetlight had gone out; a spot had darkened; someone's waiting had ended. But why had the wait ended? Did the leading lady finally arrive and now he and she had gone ahead to their home? Or, did the someone-waiting just give up and call it quits?

Gambit never quit. It was a lesson learned long ago, before he'd been adopted off the streets. He had become a master thief in the New Orleans Thieves Guild. He was second heir there. It was not only because of his adoptive familial standing, but for his skills as well. Sure, there lived better thieves than he was. There always was and always would be. That didn't scare him off, though. That only increased the challenge. He loved a challenge, and he rarely failed to overcome it, to steal the jewel, to fulfill the contract, or to satisfy himself. Thieving had taught him patience. He'd learned it in an air vent that had been blocked by a guard dog that had slept there for three hours. He'd been lucky his sweat dripping—plong, plong—hadn't stirred the dog. The prize then had been a ruby necklace. And he'd gotten it. For the prize of Rogue he'd wait… well, nothing lasted forever. Though, he was willing to try to come close to it. Still, thieving had taught him other things besides waiting. There was always another way to get beyond even the most secured wall.

One week, he'd give it—he decided there and then—one more Friday for her to show and then he'd take a different route.

In a moment, the street was even quieter, emptier, more alone. He had left. He was gone, a thief in the night.

* * *

She couldn't believe she was actually doing this. It was the hardest thing she would ever do. Four weeks ago roughly, twenty-seven days to be exact, she'd made the decision to do it. That was the day that Fred had given her the Hope Chest. She'd spent the next three weeks working up the nerve—yes—the nerve to show up. At the last moment, though, she had chickened out.

"You coming in?" Evan had asked.

Panic seized her. She did a marvelous job of covering it with her usual scowl. "No. What made you think that?"

Evan just looked at her. She _was_ standing outside the door.

With no sardonic quip springing to mind—_Great now ya bail on me_—Rogue rolled her eyes and left.

Another three days later, she actually managed to chicken out again. That time it was Fred she'd almost run into. She'd seen him when she turned the corner. He was coming towards her, walking from the other end of the hall. The door where they were both going was between them. A pause in her footing, and she just walked right on by like she'd been heading somewhere else the whole time. Right as they passed each other, a convenient lock of hair fell over her face. Couldn't blame her. She just couldn't show that sort of weakness to him after all that had happened when they were imprisoned. How would it reflect on him? It would only make him feel bad about his gift, like it wasn't enough.

Okay, so those were just excuses to talk her back out of it.

This time, though, she arrived twenty minutes early so that she wouldn't run into anyone on her way there. She would already be inside, waiting, when they arrived. She hated waiting. Hated it. But she hated her reason for being there more. She hated that she was going to do it. It would be the hardest thing she ever had to do, after all.

_Okay, maybe it's the second hardest. _Listening to Xavier prattle on about surviving and overcoming and releasing emotions in a healthy manner… _That is now, most definitely, the hardest._ She yawned to relieve the ache of her weariness. Then she yawned again. She'd stopped paying attention a long time ago. She'd been examining the pattern in the wallpaper for a while now.

"Go ahead, Rogue," Xavier said, reassurance bulging his words.

Rogue looked around the room. Everyone was there, just her luck, plus two more that Xavier had asked to join in when he'd seen her sitting on the couch like she'd done this a million times before. Xavier, Storm, Evan, Hank, Fred, and even Logan expected her to talk. Anticipation dangled them.

_So Ah was wrong, _this_ right now is the hardest thing Ah've ever had ta do._

"Ah…" She wrung her hands. "Ya'll…" She noticed she wrung her hands and sat on them to stop her wringing them. "Well… " She looked down. Her legs were clenched together.

A deep breath… in… out… _Ah can do this._ In, out, in, out. ..Inoutinoutinoutinout…

A paper bag against her face, over her mouth. Inconsequential words, "Hyperventilating... fighting us… hold her…" Consequential thoughts: _Can't trust… Stop them… Get away_… She tried to fly. Hands on her shoulders. Strong hands, but she was stronger. Hands on her feet, she was still stronger. Hands on her legs. _NO._ A prick on her arm. She saw the needle, watched its slow plunge and felt the burn. How'd it pierce her? How'd she feel it? She was invulnerable. And strong, but she felt so tired. Her eyelids were heavy. They were closing.

BLINK

_AH HAVE TO FIGHT._

B-L-I-N-K

SKINT!

"What the flamin' hell are those?"

B—L—I—N—K

"What do you think, Logan?"

_Gotta get away. Fly… but so tired. _

B—L—I—N—K

CLOSE

~"Noooo…"~ It was a strong whimper.

Everyone jumped back. She was released. But she didn't know it.

"Did you hear that?" Fred asked tentatively. He needed to make sure he wasn't hearing things.

He hadn't. Everyone nodded in assent. They'd heard her too.

"It was too soon," Xavier said as he followed Henry, who carried Rogue out of the room.

* * *

Two days had passed before the guards had come near Rogue again. She had just lain there, on her cot, after having dragged herself full onto it. Fred and Evan and some of the other prisoners had spoken bits of encouragement to her. There was nothing more they could do. It wasn't like with Fred, where they could pass bedding between the bars to her, to him. Besides, she had been the one with the initiative, with the idea, with the determination, with the hope. When nobody else had done it, she had taken up the reigns. And now that it was her that was in need… She'd hauled her body against the back wall of her cell as far from a friendly hand as she could get and still be on the false relief of the cot. The closest Fred's hand would reach to her was more than three inches away from her.

Sometimes an inch could be as distant as a mile.

For two days she had lain there on the cot. She didn't speak. She didn't eat. She didn't sleep, but she didn't seem awake, either. Fred and Evan and Hank had been considerably worried about her. They thought the guards had broken _her_, not just her legs. She'd never been hurt like that before on a mission, or otherwise, as far as they'd known. They thought that the injury and the prone position it had placed her in had caused her to give up. They'd never expected her to give up, she, who had been giving them hope the whole first week they'd been there. If they had been telepaths, they would have known better, however. There were telepaths there, in a few of the cells, it was the most common mutation, after all, but they were all wearing inhibitor collars, and therefore couldn't access that power to see the thoughts that were really brewing inside Rogue's mind. But, it turned out, after two days, they hadn't needed to read her thoughts to find out that she hadn't given up, hadn't resigned herself to her fate of imprisonment. Two days after the winking guard had broken her legs three guards led the familiar doctor (wearing a new set of glasses) into her cell to treat her wounds and they saw the evidence for themselves.

"Rotten sons of bitches," she'd sputtered quietly when the guard put a key in her cell door (they'd closed it again when they saw her dragging herself around her cot). When the door opened and the doctor entered, well, that when she really hurled the curses at them. The expletives that left her mouth would've made even Wolverine blush.

The doctor actually gave pause and looked at her with widened eyes. It was the most emotion she'd ever seen from him. It was the same doctor that had treated Fred two days earlier, before winking man had broken her legs and left her there to rot in her own infection. And infected her wounds were getting. But Rogue knew it wasn't her festering wounds that had given him pause. It wasn't even her words either, really. It was her anger and stubborn determination that hadn't wilted, but rather had festered even greater than the wounds on her legs had. They may have broken her legs, but they hadn't broken her will. None of the other prisoners had retained their fight after winking man's punishments and having undergone the research experiments.

But then, they hadn't really tested her yet, they hadn't figured out exactly what her powers were yet.

The doctor never got to treat Rogue on that first attempt. She'd kept him off the second, third, and fourth visits that day. Every time he came near her cell, she cursed, and hollered, and threw her bedding and toilet paper at him and the guards. But, Rogue _was_ treated, just not by the doctor. After the first visit, Rogue tore strips off the bedding that Fred had tossed back to her. She'd dipped the strips in the water of her toilet and had cleaned the wounds caused by the bones that had punctured the skin. She only did a little at a time. It was very painful. She had to do it in steps. First cleaning, then later, more cleaning, and later still, more cleaning. It wasn't until just before the fifth visit attempted by the doctor that Rogue had finally tried to set the bones on her own. She bit her lip, but couldn't hold back her bark of pain nor the tears that had accompanied it.

Fred had watched her with curious eyes. He couldn't understand why she wouldn't take the doctor's treatment, why she wouldn't let them ease her pain. The doctor would at least make it bearable; make their torments and their imprisonment a little easier. The doctor always gave injections of painkillers.

By the fifth visit, winking man was getting very annoyed. Rogue had narrowed her eyes on his and said, "What's the problem? Boss man not happy with ya right now?"

Winking man hadn't responded to her. Instead, he led the doctor out without even having had touched a key to her cell door.

That night Rogue had woken to hushed whispers coming from Fred's cell. Leaning over Fred was the same doctor she'd always seen checking and further treating Fred's burns and lingering effects of the near hypothermia he had suffered. Two guards were there. One was inside the cell behind Fred and the doctor, and one was at the edge of the opened cell door. A second doctor, one Rogue had never seen before was behind the second guard outside Fred's cell. This second doctor stood more erect than the other doctor, carried himself with more authority, and had an eerie inquisitive glint in his eyes. He was watching Rogue while the first and more familiar doctor whispered with Fred.

Rogue never heard what was said between them, but she found out eventually… the next day actually.

Breakfast was served to everyone, half an hour after lights-on, like every other day. Breakfast was the one meal that was consistently served them. Even if lunch or dinner hadn't followed, they'd always had breakfast. The guards and kitchen hands rolled carts alongside the cell doors and passed plates through the crevice beneath the barred doors. It was a lot like being on an airplane, only less cramped.

There was one thing different that morning, though. That morning, the guards never slid a plate under Rogue's cell door, so she _knew_ they had something planned for her. When Fred, looking guilty, had offered to share his with her, she'd at first turned him down just for spite. Then, she changed her mind, and accepted his shared breakfast for the same reason. If her captors wanted her hungry, well then, she just refused to be hungry for them.

This repeated for lunch as well. Only this time, when the plates were cleared away, the doctors had returned. And they had brought friends.

Winking man looked from Fred to Rogue, and grinned. Rogue could almost hear the singsong '_I know something you don't know_' in that grin of his. Aloud, though, he said, "Enjoy your meals, mutie?" He chuckled when Rogue glowered suspiciously at him, then he winked and pointed to the cameras that were pointed at her cell. "Knew we'd find a way ta get you ta co-operate."

It had been a trick. They were testing her, seeing if they could manipulate her into doing what they wanted… like when they had used Wolverine's claws on Fred. Rogue, needless to say, was fuming.

"Shut up, Renfield," said the authoritative doctor with the inquisitive glint in his eyes as he pushed past the winking man.

Rogue almost laughed at _Renfield's_ confused grimace. It was obvious he didn't like the nickname or that he didn't get the reference the name made [1].

"I'm Dr. Milbury," the authoritative doctor said as he approached her cell. His eyes flick to Fred—who looked like he'd had a change of heart and was about to lose his lunch from his guilt—then added, "Your _friend_ here tells me your name is Rogue."

She'd been proud that she'd never given them her name. But Fred had told. If she could have, she would have ran to the bars and tried to beat Fred silly while reaching between them. But she couldn't. Her legs were too mangled, the wounds too infected, and the pain too intense to drag herself over there. Plus, over there was close to where Dr. Milbury was standing. So instead, she simply said, "So that's what ya'll were whispering about last night."

The three other doctors moved towards her cell as well. They all had clipboards and held pens poised above them. They looked like a bunch of hospital interns following their mentor around just waiting for a glimpse of brilliance they could note and later memorize. Behind them came three guards carrying Wolverine.

Her cell door opened, so her attention leapt there. Then the doctors parted to make room for Wolverine to be brought to the center of the room, so her attention leapt there. Two guards, neither one being _Renfield_ grabbed her arms and again her attention shifted. They laid Wolverine on the floor; she shifted. A needle pricked her arm; she shifted. She looked up to the culprit. It was Dr. Milbury. Rogue's angry, confused, and scared emerald orbs met Milbury's eerily inquisitive ones.

"It's a painkiller, Rogue," Dr. Milbury said as he capped the syringe and slipped it in his pocket, "There is no need to be frightened."

Rogue blinked. She blinked again. She felt strange. She looked at Fred, his regret for his whispers with the doctor plainly spilled down his cheeks. She looked to Wolverine, unconscious on the floor. She looked to Dr. Milbury. She blinked again. She was getting tired.

"Whaz gooooiiinnngg ooonnnn?" She asked. It was difficult to speak. Her mouth didn't want to form the words. Her tongue felt sluggish, as did her arms. And now her legs weren't hurting so much.

Dr. Milbury nodded to the guards and they picked her up. As they carried her limp form out of her cell, Milbury followed and said, "You've been holding back on us, Rogue. Your friend here has kindly filled us in, though."

B-L-I-N-K

Rogue tried to look back at Fred. Her head lolled to the side and rolled back. The muscles in her neck just could not support the strain of turning her head any more.

"He tells us you are more than a…" Dr. Milbury looks to one of the other doctors, "How did that she phrase it?"

The doctor scrambled through his notes, then proudly beamed when he found it. "Psychic vampire, sir," he said.

B-L-I-N-K

The guards carried her to the center of the main area of the block as Milbury said, "Yes, that's what it was. Quite colorful."

"Ahhhh dooonnn unn…" Rogue slurred and then trailed off. Frustrated, she tried to lift her head again, but it was too heavy. Again, it lolled against her shoulder and fell back. She had a sneaky suspicion that this was what a marionette felt like. She suddenly understood Pinocchio's plight to a degree greater than she had ever before conceived of.

B—L—I—N—K

"There's no point in wasting our surplus when you could heal yourself, Rogue," said Dr. Milbury.

The guards laid her down beside Wolverine. She never wished to be human more than right then. Of course, she couldn't see the future. She didn't know they'd get her to kill.

B——L——I——N——K… Close.

* * *

B——L——I——N——K… B—L—I—N—K… B-L-I-N-K… BLINK… BLINKBLINK… Open…

Milbury pulled back, syringe in hand. He capped it and sat it on a tall metal instrument table to the side. There were other syringes and tools on the table as well. They seemed to glow from the light they reflected. There was a lot of light to _be_ reflected. The room was bright, so very, very bright. It was surgical room bright. It hurt her eyes, the only sense she consciously felt at the moment. She closed her eyes. _See, that's better. Not so bright, now._

"Ah-ah-ahh, Rogue. You'll want to stay awake for this," Dr. Milbury said. He turned his head and added, to someone else, "Note the time, Reynolds. I believe he's wearing off. She's not metabolizing the drug as quickly."

"Ten hours, thirteen minutes, forty-two seconds, this time, sir," the doctor replied from far away. At least, that's what Rogue thought. _How far away is he? A mile?_ Funny how distance could be subjective, how senses could play with the truth. The doctor who had answered Milbury was really only fifteen feet or so away from her. But, she was tired from the many, many miles she had already traveled on this journey and this particular trip was far, far from over. There was still that mountain between here and there for her to contend with.

Milbury stepped back, which allowed her to see more of the room around her, or in front of her, really, since she seemed to be against one wall; or close to it at least. The other three walls were lined with guards, spaced apart, at attention. She was suddenly struck with images of the Nutcracker. It almost made her giggle—giggle and cry. He joined his gaggle of doctors, now there were eight of them not including him. Off to the right of the doctor was a console on what looked like a podium and a set of tables. These tables were covered with computers and monitors. The monitors had lots of diagrams playing on them: physiological designs that rotated, scrolling lines of code, charts, and things she didn't recognize. They were too far away for her to read anything specific on them, but she figured it was a good guess they displayed information about her. That was, until she heard the groan come from beside her, which incited one consolation: her hearing was getting better.

"Uhhhhhhh," Logan groaned as he came to. He blinked, and then blinked again. His eyes went wide. He looked up to see his arms bound together above him. He was dangling from his restraints like the wires dangled from his body before trailing up and over the slab he was restrained to. He yanked on his arms, but they wouldn't come loose. He felt the collar around his neck with a shrug of his shoulders and a roll of his head. He growled and looked around him, figuring out the room, the people in it, and the purpose they shared. He stopped his growl short when his view fell on Rogue to his left. His eyes widened for a second time since he'd woken, as he looked her up and down, and then, with a voice scratchy as sandpaper and brittle as parchment said, "Rogue, what's going on?"

Rogue's answer was a confused frown_. _

_Let's see, Wolvie. We're being held prisoner and experimented on. Ya'll _know_ that._

She'd meant for it to be spoken, but her body hadn't caught up with her brain yet. Still, the way he looked her up and down, and the way he was bound made her aware of the ache in her own shoulders. She looked up, followed the length of her arms and saw that she was bound like he was. Only she was inside something: a cylinder, perhaps. But the cylinder wasn't whole. The space directly in front of her, from mid way up her shins to half way down her forearms was open, as though a doorway had been cut out. With the ache in her shoulders came more of that sense of feeling. Her hands were cold, very cold, and they burned, like they would feel if her circulation had been cut off, that sensation that comes right before pins and needles. Wires dangled beside her arms, like with Logan, streaming from sensors attached to her body. She looked down next, and once she saw her legs, she felt what her eyes saw. Her legs were healed, good as new. She wiggled them, tested their mobility as much as her position would allow. Like she'd thought, good as knew. With that downward tilt of her head she also felt an emptiness around her neck, a certain lack of something. She wasn't wearing a collar.

"You're certain this will work, Milbury," a voice said right beside her ear a split instant before its owner blocked her view of Logan.

"Yes, Trask, I am," Milbury said.

"How can you be sure?" Trask asked. He spoke about Logan and Rogue as though they weren't there, or weren't capable of hearing him or understanding him. To him, they were less than human. He continued, "Logan's the only one to ever survive the bonding procedure. She only retains his healing factor for a limited period of time. What assurance is there that she won't die as soon as it wears off?"

"Such concern for the mutant, Trask. Are you having a change of heart?"

"That's not it and you know it, Milbury," Trask said. The offense in his tone was dense. "I'm just wondering what your angle is on this. She's been your pet project for the last two weeks. Why risk her?"

"Because, like you said, Logan has been the only one to ever survive. But now there may be a second who can survive… with a little help of course. Duplicating you and your partner's previous endeavors with Logan here was the primary contingency of our contract, was it not? Your Sentinels provide mutants for my research and I find a way to—"

"Enough!" Trask shouted, cutting Milbury off. A sly smile crept across Milbury's face. Trask eyed the room's inhabitants venomously. "The project is classified."

"I was only answering your question."

"That's not what I was asking and you know it," Trask spat. "Why not just follow our original plan? Why her, instead?"

"Not instead, Trask, but also."

"Just answer the damn question, Milbury."

His eyes glinted and that sly smile twitched his lips. "Because I am curious, of course."

Trask grunted, exasperated with Milbury's response, and stomped to the other side of the room. With his movement, Rogue was able to see Logan again. There was real fear in him. Fear for her.

A voice filled the room. It was an intercom system. "She's ready, sir."

"Good," Milbury said. "Bring her in." Upon seeing Trask's confused expression, he added, "One more test, to ensure her survival."

The other participant of this last test was brought in. She was unconscious and strapped to a gurney. Her wrists and ankles were bound in place to the gurney by adamantium straps. Guards pushed her directly in front of Rogue and the gaggle of doctors began hooking sensors up to her.

Trask paled when he saw whom it was. "What are you up to, Milbury? She's human. She's not one of your lab rats."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Trask. You couldn't be more wrong or more right. She is human, a mutant, and more."

"She's one of my top people. She passed all the screenings. You will release her."

"Your screenings were flawed. They were tampered with. She is not what you thought. She does have powers. But most importantly, she works for…" Dr. Milbury trailed off when another person entered the room… Gambit.

Remy was disheveled. There were leaves and twigs in his hair and grime smeared into his clothes. His shoes were black with mud and other things that smelled much worse.

Trask snorted in disgust. "What is he doing here?"

Remy scowled at Trask, then shrugged. There was contempt in that small gesture. He pulled one of the many leaves from his hair and let it drop onto the floor and said, "Mercenary work. Gotta love it."

Dr. Milbury ignored their banter, addressing Remy about his own purposes, his own concerns. "Is it done, Remy?"

Remy's eyes, disguised with brown contacts, met Dr. Milbury's inquisitive eyes. "Oui, c'est finis [2]."

"How many?"

Gambit looked away then, but still hadn't seen Rogue, yet. It was like he didn't want to be witness to what was occurring in the room, as though not seeing it, not acknowledging it, would mean it wasn't happening, that he hadn't helped start it. "Un bon nombre d'eux. Un trop grand nombre." It was sorrowful. A moment later, he shook it off. His edge regained, he added, "Ils sont traités maintenant [3]."

"Very good, Remy," Dr. Milbury said, returning his attention to the doctors hooking sensors up to the woman that had been brought in. Remy, still avoiding the goings on in the room, turned to leave when Milbury, with his back to Remy, said, "One more thing, Remy."

Remy spun around. His rage seemed to burn behind contacts that had disguised his eyes as brown-on-white. "Non! Ma dette est payée. Vous dit ceci que ce soit. Pas plus. Nous sommes finis [4]."

With Remy's words, Dr. Milbury's smile became a hardened line under the clenching of his jaw. He looked up at Rogue, and an idea sparked.

"You are correct," he conceded to Remy. "Your contract has been fulfilled. He cuffed his hands behind his back and he strolled out from between Remy and Rogue, thus giving them their first unobstructed view of each other since Remy had entered. "Go then, Remy," he said knowingly. "Allez et soyez heureux [5]."

Their eyes met, embraced, and danced, Remy versus Rogue. It was much like the first time, during the battle. They stared. She felt his empathy and Remy felt her through his empathy. He felt her confusion, her fear, her stubborn determination, and her flare of hatred for him. He was the reason she was caught, that _they_ were caught. He was the link between the fight started with Magneto and the arrival of Trask and his Sentinel. The weight of her gaze, of her emotions knocked his breath away. It threatened to release his hard won control, the thing for which he'd indebted himself to Dr. Milbury. He carefully reigned in the tingling sensation in his fingers, lest he'd be revealed a mutant to Trask and the others right then and there.

"Que faites-vous à la femme?" Remy said, transferring his anger from his powers into his words. "Vous l'avez dite souffririez pas plus qu'un malaise mineur. Qu'est-ce que c'est? [6]"

"True. True." Milbury said. He strolled further, passing by Logan. "But that arrangement was made under false pretenses, was it not?" He arced his stroll, stalking around to the side of Remy. "Vous n'avez dit rien au sujet de ses puissances d'absorption. Seulement dit sa peau était dangereuse [7]."

"Je n'ai pas su [8]."

"What are you talking about?" Trask asked suspiciously.

Dr. Milbury ignored Trask. He continued strolling, stalking a circle around Remy. "Ne mentez pas à moi encore. Vous prolongez votre dette avec chaque mensonge dont vous me parlez [9]."

Remy glowered at Dr. Milbury daringly. A snake is most dangerous when caught in a trap.

"English, damn it," Trask spat, "We're in America not France."

Remy turned that glower onto Trask and Trask took a step back. "Remy's not French, mais Cajun. Born an' raised in de Big Easy. Dat's N'awlin's in l'Anglais."

Milbury, still stalking a circle around Remy, said, "I believe Remy has decided to stay." He flicked his eyes to Rogue. "And watch." Back to Remy. "Isn't that so, Remy?"

"Je resterai," Gambit said, then repeated it in English for Trask, "I'll stay."

"No. You will not watch," Trask said as he stomped up to Remy and grabbed him by the collar, trying to push him to the door. "Classified, Milbury. Remember? Your little merc, here, will not be seeing this."

Gambit held his ground, surprising Trask with the strength in his slim body. Gambit caught hold of Trask's suit jacket where Milbury could see what he was doing. He looked to Milbury, not Trask, for Trask was not the threat, but rather Remy's hand on Trask's jacket was the threat. Milbury knew what Remy could do with that hand on that jacket. "Call him off," Remy said.

"Let him go, Trask," Dr. Milbury said. "He is an associate of mine. You will treat him with the same respect that you treat me."

"I don't take my orders from you," Trask said, but he let Remy go and backed away once Remy released him in return.

"Nor I from you, Trask. Those in my employment answer only to me. If I say he may watch, then he may watch."

Wolverine had watched and listened intently to the three of them bartering. Unfortunately, he didn't know a lick of French [10]. He didn't like being kept out of the loop, so he'd tried to piece together what they were talking about from the few words and phrases that sounded like their English counterpart. When he'd heard 'finis,' 'grand nombre,' and 'dette est payée,' and factored in Trask and Remy's referring to Remy as a mercenary, he'd figured they were arguing about Remy's pay. But, then, when he heard the additions of 'à la femme,' 'd'absorption,' and 'dangereuse,' he knew that whatever they were bartering over involved Rogue somehow. The rest was completely baffling, though. He'd recognized the words 'moi,' 'encore,' and 'prolongez,' but had no clue how they would factor into what he'd already guessed they were talking about. Confused, he turned to Rogue to ask her. Maybe she'd taken French in school or something. The shocked look on her face told him that she definitely understood more than he did.

"Is Gumbo there trying to buy you… as part of his payment?" Wolverine asked her, whispering. He really wanted to know what they had said. They had all but stopped talking to each other now and doubted that when they did speak again that it would have anything to do with what had just been said in French. He took some consolation in seeing that Trask didn't know what Milbury and Remy had said either, but he really didn't like the way that Remy was staring at Rogue. It was a mixture of desire, anxiety, and guilt… and something else… something more. That combination didn't look good to Wolverine at all.

"No, it's not that," Rogue whispered back. "Ah'm not exactly sure what they said. They spoke so much faster than mah teachers evah did. They were talking about that Remy guy getting paid for something he did for Milbury. I think. I'm sure he doesn't want to work for him any more. I think Milbury's using me ta keep him working for him. But Ah don't know why."

The doctors that had been setting up the sensors on the woman on the gurney and their monitoring devices all looked up at Rogue. She was sure they were going to tell her to be quiet, but they didn't. They looked at her like she was a newly discovered virus under the eye of their microscope.

One doctor looked to Milbury and said, "All ready, sir." Then the lot of them scattered back from Rogue, Logan, and the woman on the gurney. It was like they'd just realized that the virus was contagious. But, of course, they weren't.

Trask stood front-and-center of the action, eager to see what treat Milbury had planned for the mutie scum before him. Remy sat on the edge of one of the tables filled with computers and monitors. From what Rogue and Logan could tell, Remy had the best view of Rogue. Milbury went to a console that edged the tables. He picked up a device that looked like an overcomplicated joystick and began working it. A buzzing overhead signaled their attention to a mechanical arm that lowered. Under Milbury's expert usage of the joystick, the arm latched onto the woman's forearm. He paused then, reached over and pressed a couple of buttons on the console, and pop, the band around the woman's wrist, just the one on the wrist below where the mechanical arm had clamped onto, released. Milbury again resumed controlling the mechanical arm via the joystick. The arm raised the woman's arm and slowly, oh so slowly, moved it towards Rogue's bare midriff. All Rogue had been dressed in was a sports bra and shorts. It was enough clothing to keep her from being nude, while still exposing as much of her dangerous skin as possible. The mechanical arm stopped when the woman's bare hand was just an inch away from Rogue's skin. Then the grip on the arm rotated until the woman's hand flopped so the flat surface of the back of her hand angled parallel to Rogue's stomach. Milbury glanced at the gaggle of doctors once more to verify that all was ready. The doctors nodded. The arm moved. And finally, bare skin touched bare skin.

_One second._ Rogue felt her mind and body react. _Ten seconds._ Her mind narrowed and broadened all at once. _Thirty seconds._ Her body strengthened and weakened all at once. _Fifty seconds._ She became another person. _One minute, thirty seconds._ She gained another conscious. _Two minutes, fourteen seconds._ She acquired several new skills. _Three minutes._ And can't forget the powers_. Five minutes._ Oh, the powers. _Eight minutes._ If her restraints hadn't been made of adamantium, she could've broken free of them all and demolished the compound all by herself.

…Eleven minutes…

Rogue's powers worked on a one-to-sixty ratio. Touch for one second and she had the powers for sixty seconds.

…Sixteen minutes…

Theoretically, touch for ten minutes and she had them for six hundred minutes. That was ten hours.

…Twenty minutes…

Theoretically, touch for thirty minutes and she had them for eighteen hundred minutes. That was thirty hours—or one day and six hours.

…Twenty-seven minutes…

Theoretically, One hour lasted for sixty hours. That was two days twelve hours.

…Thirty-three minutes…

Is there ever a point where that changed?

…Thirty-four minutes…

A point where Rogue had reached a limit on what her body and mind could hold… like a sponge, or a glass, or a pool?

…Thirty-five minutes…

Or where there was just nothing left of the person for Rogue to take in? Rogue _did_ take in their skills and memories as well.

…Thirty-six minutes…

Could watching the process tell when these things occurred? When Rogue became full, or her victim empty?

…Thirty-seven minutes…

The woman on the gurney went into convulsions at seven minutes. Seven… the number of perfection.

…Thirty-eight minutes…

…

…

…

And the whole time, Remy carefully watched Rogue, but he never once looked at the face of the woman on the gurney.

Wolverine noticed that.

Remy put on a good show, convinced Trask he was a mutant-hating human, but Logan knew better. Even without his heightened senses he could tell that Remy hated what was happening with Rogue. Yet, he didn't try to stop it. And still, Wolverine admitted that he couldn't even bring himself to watch after the first few seconds. That's when he'd turned his attention to Remy. He watched Remy watch Rogue suffer through the entire thing. It was Remy's self-endured punishment to watch.

* * *

_Where am I? A cell? They caught me? Yeah, they did. Well, that guy did, Milbury's lackey. He gave me up, snap, just like that, when Milbury caught us talking together. I can't believe I confided in him. Can't believe I believed him. Where did it land me? Here. Wherever here is, that is. It's too big to be a cell. I've been walking for hours, days, weeks. How long have I been here? And why am I walking? Why aren't I flying? Am I flying? I can't tell. I can't see anything, least of all my feet, or legs, or arms, or hands, or torso… I can't feel them either, now that I think about it. Am I dead? I can't be dead. I'm invulnerable. So I must be alive. Right. I mean, I know I exist. Don't I? I can hear myself talking. I am talking. See, I have a… oh, I can't feel my hands to touch my mouth to prove I have a mouth to talk with or hands to touch the mouth I talk with. So, maybe I'm not talking. Maybe I'm thinking. Do I exist? That's stupid. Of course I exist. I have identity, don't I? I know who I am. I do… I'm, I'm… I know I'm a girl. I know it. And I have powers. I know that too. I can fly, I'm invulnerable, I have super human strength… but humans don't have powers like these, do they? Am I not human? Maybe I'm a figment of my imagination… or someone else's. Okay, now that's crazier than human's having powers. I am human. I do exist. I have a name. I have a rank. I have a seria—Wait back up a second. Rank? I have a rank… That's right, I do. I'm a Colonel. I'm a colonel in the U.S. armed forces. I do undercover work for the government. I work for Shield, with Colonel Fury. He sent me on this mission to pose as a human… no not pose, I am human… to pose as a high ranking guard in Bolivar Trask's latest pet project. He has an installation where he's researching mutants to determine if they're dangerous. Silly man! That's like saying all women are dangerous while falling asleep nude beside one. Anyone can be dangerous. How do people get funding for this stuff?! Who knows? But, there I was infiltrating the research center when I stumbled upon him… what was his name? There's an 'L' in it somewhere. I know there is. And a 'B'. And a… a… Oh, forget it. I know who I'm talking about and it's not like there's anybody else here, wherever I am, to explain it to, so I'm just going to move on now. So, I discovered he was a mutant. Right there working for the head Dr. who was partners with Trask, the holier-than-thou mutant hater… mutant… hmmm… Never mind. I knew something was up then. Something worse than what Trask was working on. Something far more frightening than Colonel Fury or I could ever have imagined. So I bummed around with him for a few days. Wasn't hard to get by his shell. He was a huge flirt. And he was real talkative about a particular prisoner. Most times I felt like he was working me as much as I was working him. Finally, after one week, he asked me if I'd ever been stationed in her block, if I ever see her. And right then, I knew I was in. That was the ticket. Of course I said yes, and that, yes, I would take him to see her sometime next week. At night. If he'd do something for me, of course. And that's when Milbury walked in… hey, why can I remember some names, but not all names? Like my name… what's my name… I know I have one. Everyone has one… it's…it's… it's… oh, yeah I remember it's—_

_

* * *

  
_

B——L——I——N——K… B—L—I—N—K… B-L-I-N-K… BLINK… BLINKBLINK… Open…

Rogue was in her room. She was in the bedroom that she shared with Kitty. It was dark. All the lights were out, but it was dark outside. Nobody else was there, not even Kitty. She was alone. There was no Mr. McCoy checking her vitals. There was no Xavier quietly observing her. There was no Storm meditating for her emotional and physical health. There was no Wolverine watching. There was no teary eyed fellow student sitting in a chair beside the bed holding her hand… with his or her gloved hand.

Blink… Blink… Open…

She was alone.

_Fine by me. It's how Ah prefer it. Can't risk them reaching me… and touching mah skin._ The last part was added quickly.

She felt great. But, of course she did. She had Logan's healing powers. Probably burned off the sedative lickety-split. Besides, it wasn't like she'd been injured anyway. There wasn't any reason she would feel anything but great. She propped herself up, picked her novel up off the bedside table, and read.

Ten minutes later, she checked the clock, 8:32 p.m. It'd been three hours since the counseling session had started. They all would've eaten dinner by now. They'd be hanging out in the recreation room or working out in the danger room or…

It was Thursday, no danger room sessions that evening. Diagnostics and maintenance checks were always run on Thursdays. Almost everyone would be in the recreation room then. Wrestling was on. Most of the guys watched it. Most of the girls, too, though they usually made fun of the guys who were really watching it, or they were talking about how hot certain wrestlers were, or they were there to just giggle and talk and be a general nuisance to those who were watching. Even those who didn't participate in the Wrestling ritual in some way were usually in there. They played pool or board games or read. Henry would read medical journals and sometimes he had been caught watching the Wrestling over top the magazine. Wolverine too. Though, Logan had done it from under the guise of a hat pulled over his eyes while he napped. Otherwise, when not napping, he would have a beer and chew his cheroot, opting not to light it in the room full of kids. Xavier, though, would just sit and observe everyone there, a contented pride relaxing his brow.

Thursday Night had become an Event since she, Evan, Logan, and Henry had been rescued. It was the unofficial, unspoken Family Night at the Institution. Tragedy can do that, can make people want to spend more time around each other.

And she was alone in her room, reading, like usual. She could go down, just to move around, get the blood flowing, and stretch her legs…

She checked the clock. Red on black numbers winked 8:46 at her. Red on black, just like his eyes. Today was Thursday, which made tomorrow Friday… She sat down her book and pulled open the drawer on her beside table. _The_ card. _The_ invitation to meet him at Spades. There it sat, shiny and bright and inviting, just like the most accomplished betrayer. She stared at it. Eventually, the stare became a glower. She closed the drawer.

Red on black winked 8:48. She returned to her book.

Red on black winked 8:49.

She opened the drawer and pulled out the card. 'Friday, 10 pm,' stared back at her, beckoning her, pleading her in his hasty script. It'd been four weeks to the day since she'd discovered it while changing her sheets, and another three to five days on top of that (she told herself that she couldn't remember exactly) since he'd given it to her. That had been the night he'd scared her into fixing the wall so he couldn't get in. He hadn't shown up since then. Perhaps she scared him off by filling in his place of entrance, the hole in the outer wall of her room, even if she hadn't actually accomplished the task until the day she'd discovered the card. If so, perhaps he'd never shown for the proposed meeting at Spades, never seen that she'd never come. And now it'd been four weeks.

_Ain't no way he'd show up tomorrow. Nobody's that desperate._ She tossed the card in the drawer, seemingly carelessly, and closed it. She reached over to set her alarm for the morning… her gloves setting beside it caught her eye.

He wore gloves. His were fingerless, though. Well, a few fingers at least. Her memory flashed to that day at the school, when the Brotherhood had come over…

A lock of hair tickled mah left cheek. Ah reached up to push it behind mah ear. Something caught mah hand, mah thankfully gloved hand. Ah flinched with the surprising contact, but a gloved hand grasped mah hand and held it in place beside mah ear.

_Had he known what Ah was? Of course he did. Magneto had to have told him. And with him working with the Doc… _ She trailed off. She didn't want to think about that again.

But, he'd visited her anyway. Repeatedly. She chortled.

_Maybe he was that desperate._ She shook her head to straighten out her skewed thoughts_. But nobody that looked like that, moved like that, talked like that, and watched mh like that could evah be desperate at all. He had ta have a list of broken hearts a mile long behind him. He had ta be in it for something else. For Magneto probably… or the Doc…_ She trailed off again.

That was enough of that. She rose from her bed and headed downstairs. Family Night at Xavier's would at least be a distraction from her crazy thoughts.

_Ah was about ta convince mahself of the impossible. Like some guy like that would evah want a girl he couldn't touch._

She'd been so busy trying to avoid thoughts of Gambit and the…possibilities… that were so impossible for her, that she'd forgotten about the incident during the counseling session until she'd walked into the room and saw everyone—absolutely everyone—there. They were all performing their Thursday Night ritual as usual.

Not a one of them were worrying, harping, prying, gawking, nagging, questioning, harassing, needling, guilting, or any of those annoying habits that showed how much they cared about her. All of them were going on with their lives as though she had never existed. She watched them a moment. She just watched them exist without her. She watched them live and not need her and not being needed by her. And she smiled. She smiled and was content. And all of a sudden the dam was broken, freeing her frailty for all the world to see.

"Ah need yor help," she said. It had just come out. She had admitted her weakness. She had asked for help. It had been the hardest thing in her life to do earlier that day, and now, it had just slipped out like she was asking the time.

All of them did notice her then. It was the last thing anyone would have expected from her, actually admitting she needed help, that she couldn't handle everything on her own, that she needed them. It had cut through the noise of the room like a gunshot through the chest. She'd pierced them. She'd hooked them. And now they all wanted to know what she needed help for.

Rogue didn't say anything. All of their attention was unnerving her, rebuilding the dam. Finally, it was Kitty who spoke up, saying, "With what?"

Kurt was next, "Are you hurt?"

That launched into a tirade of questions and comments about the incident earlier that day. Those who'd known about it were saying, "Are you ill, faint, dizzy… Claws, telepathy…" Those that weren't in the know were questioning those who were. Her name bounced around like Quicksilver in a rubber room. It was too much for her. She wanted to bolt. But she stubbornly resigned herself to the fate she'd unleashed as she'd done so many times with the fate genetics had designed for her. She stayed, hovering a foot above the rest of the world's foothold.

But still, she wasn't having it.

_~"QUIET!"~_ She yelled into their heads.

And they were. It was shocking to hear the twang of her voice in their heads. Even those who had been in the room when McCoy had sedated her were startled by it. Then, it had been so quiet, so silky, so unlike her. Now, it was screeched like a banshee.

"You didn't have to yell," Ray said as he fingered his ear. It was habit for something that loud.

She gave them a caustic smile. "Okay. Like Ah was saying, Ah'm having a problem." It was getting difficult again. She'd practiced what she'd say. She had it all memorized, but it just wasn't coming out right. She was babbling, "Ah'm not hurt or anything, at least not because of an injury or… well, that's not exactly right… it's that with these powers Ah got some things…"

She caught sight of Scott's glasses and was transfixed by him. She knew he saw the world in red, but it was far from seeing it through ruby lenses. She looked at him and suddenly knew how to word it. "Aw, heck, Ah'll just show ya."

She lowered herself to the floor. Her limp toes met marble first, then the balls of her feet, and then—as Scott started towards her—then, her heels. She was standing—no, she was falling to the floor.

THUNK! Her knees hit first. SMACK! Her hands were next, followed by the rest of her. Then Scott was beside her, helping her stand. She shoed him off. They needed to see this.

She had to fight with herself to keep from lifting herself up with her power of flight. She had to allow her knees to buckle under her weight. It was the only way they'd really understand that there was a major problem with her legs. Yeah, with her legs…

She grabbed the couch to pull herself up, like people do every day. It was normal. It was just a way to take some of the responsibility of standing off her legs. Only thing was… her legs just didn't seem to want to take _any_ of the responsibility.

* * *

"…"

"…"

"_Is there somebody there?"_

"_Oh, you're brilliant, aren't you? Just my luck to get trapped here with some brainless—"_

"_You know where we are?"_

"_See what I mean?"_

"_No, I can't, that's the problem."_

"_Well, open your eyes, then, Bimbo."_

"_I still don't see you…"_

"_You don't? Oh. Well, then. Well, I don't know what to tell you."_

"_Can you see me?"_

"_Of course I can."_

"_Do you recognize me?"_

"_No, why should I? Do you recognize me, I mean, does my voice sound familiar to you?"_

"_Well, no. But, you can see me and hear me and all?"_

_"Hey, you know what? I think I'm going to go and check this place out. Talk to you later."_

"_Don't go. I'm serious."_

"_Fine, I'll stay. Yes, I can see you and hear you. You exist, okay."_

"_That's how that one psychologist described existence… or was it a philosopher? He said that we exist because our world responds to us."_

"_Yes, I have heard that before. So, I guess you're not as dumb as I thought."_

"_That's why I was so confused. Nothing reacted to me before you came. Well, not since I've been here."_

"_Really?"_

"_Yeah, why?"_

"_Not even those walls there? You never bumped into them or anything?"_

"_What walls?"_

"_Those walls. They're right there. They surround this entire place. Look, they're right—oh, yeah, I forgot. You can't see anything."_

"_No, I can't. Or feel or taste or smell."_

"_Bummer for you."_

"_Do you have all your senses?"_

"…"

"_Well?"_

"_Most of them."_

"_Which ones."_

"_I can see, hear, touch, taste, and smell."_

"_That's all of them."_

"_Not for me."_

"_Are you like me, then?"_

"_Are you?"_

"_Yeah. And you are?"_

_  
"Yeah."_

"_So what's this sense you're missing?"_

"_Well, I have some of it, sort of… barely... It's, it's…"_

"_You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."_

"_I'm not scared, if that's what you're thinking."_

"_It wasn't."_

"'_Cause I'm not. I, well, it's weird not having it. Makes it difficult to think. I'm so used to thinking with it there all the time."_

"_Telepathy."_

"_Yeah. You?"_

"_Super strength, invulnerability, and flight."_

"_Not bad."_

"_Mostly."_

"_Mostly?"_

"_Except, I don't know if I have them anymore… since I can't feel or see or anything."_

"_Oh."_

"…"

"…"

"…"

"_So have you been here long?"_

"_Don't know. Could be a day, a week, a year, or a—"_

"_I get the point."_

"—_or a minute. Time's relative… You know, like Einstein says—hey I remembered another name."_

"_Ooookay… do you know your name?"_

"_I'm not retarded nor an infant, you know. You don't have to talk to me like that."_

"_Well, you never know."_

"_Sometimes I do. And I do know my name. Do you know yours?"_

"_Of course I do. I'm not an idiot."_

"_What is it then?"_

"_Emma Frost."_

"_Wow. It fits."_

"_How do you know? You can't even see me."_

"_Uh… Well… Never mind… I'm Carol Danvers. Nice to meet you, Emma. I'd shake your hand, but well, you know."_

"_Oh, no, that's quite all right. I don't mind."_

"…"

"_Oh, don't look at me like that."_

"_Like what?"_

"_You know."_

"_Well, you are being sort of a bitch."_

"_Hey, I'm not the bitch that put us here, okay."_

"_What do you mean? I'm here because a guy caught me."_

"_What guy? Never mind. Doesn't matter who he is. No way he could put you here. Only way you could be here is because that stubborn brat Milbury's been obsessing over put us here."_

"_You're not bitter."_

"_Shut up."_

"…"

"_But if I could get my hands on that little—"_

"_Maybe it wasn't her fault."_

"_Nobody's innocent."_

_

* * *

  
_

'Do Not Enter!'

Logan ripped the note off and banged on the wall beside the kitchen doorway. Pictures rattled. The note had been taped to the back of a heavy china cabinet. It was a very, very heavy antique china cabinet. Rogue was the only one in the mansion that could have any hope of moving it. The cabinet was positioned across the doorway from inside the kitchen. It was larger than the doorway, so there were no open spaces for anyone to crawl through. Loud music was playing from inside. It was so loud, Logan had been pounding and yelling for a full minute and still, Rogue had not responded.

"Like, what is she doing in there?" Kitty asked from behind Logan. Several of the students were behind Logan… waiting.

The volume of the music lessened, then the cabinet shifted, and Rogue's eye appeared in the tiny crevice that had formed between the wall and the cabinet.

"It's eight o'clock, stripes," Logan said gruffly. It was only one day after Rogue's brave request for help. So far they had not been able to find any physical cause for her inability to use her legs. Xavier and Jean had tried accessing her mind to find the cause there, but Rogue's lack of practice with the telepathy she had gained during their captivity was proving itself as much a detriment as a benefit. At the moment they were still at square one. Everybody really was sympathetic to her, really they were, but that sympathy took a back seat to their hunger when it was an hour past the time they usually ate dinner.

"Dining room. Five minutes," Rogue said through the crevice. When Logan or anybody else hadn't moved, she added, "Go, or ya'll don't get in here all night."

The crevice disappeared.

"Vell, vat'd she zay?" Kurt asked. His stomach grumbled for emphasis.

"Everyone to the dining room," Logan announced, waving his arms at them like he were shooing away a bunch of flies. They groaned, but they all went.

Scott watched the minutes tick by on his watch… literally. At five minutes, he stood up, and stomped towards the kitchen, saying, "That's it, I'm blowing the cabinet out of the way."

Rogue's appearance in the doorway into the dining room halted him, though. "An' where do ya'll think your goin'?" Rogue asked him.

Scott was about to offer a straight answer about how insensitive and irresponsible she was being for tying up the kitchen at that inappropriate time… when he saw that she had two platters of homemade fried chicken in her arms. His mouth watered. It smelled really good. She handed him both platters, saying, "That's extra spicy, and that's honey glazed," before flying back out. They all looked at each other in confusion and surprise, but nobody questioned her about it. They were already eating by the time Rogue returned with two more platters of chicken. She made several more trips. After the second trip, a few of the other students actually felt gratitude for her cooking for them and they helped her bring it all out. The students dined on mashed potatoes, corn bread, corn on the cob, and, of course, two types of fried chicken.

All the students dined on it accept Rogue herself. After she and Jubilee brought out the last pitchers of iced tea and lemonade, Rogue smiled proudly and turned to leave.

"Uhh, Rogue, aren't ya gonna eat too?" That was Sam. Out of everybody there, he appreciated the southern meal the most. His homesickness eased a little just by the smell alone. "Ya made a right perfect meal, as far as Ah'm concerned. It'd be a shame if ya didn't partake of it yaself."

Rogue looked over the food and all the appreciative faces at the tables. After a moment, she picked up a plate and loaded it up. Standing behind an empty chair she paused and said, "Ah nevah did say thanks for ya'll getting me… and the others, of course… outta that place." She gestured to the spread on the tables with her free hand. "Thanks."

Then she turned and flew to her room. She stayed there by herself and never once did she feel lonely. A smile graced her lips the entire time… well, until ten o'clock winked red and black at her. Then she frowned. She had never thanked Remy either [11].

* * *

**Footnotes:**

[1] Renfield, if I have to tell you, was Dracula's inept and insane lackey. I'm sure most of you have seen the movies but read the book, it's better.

[2] French: Oui, c'est finis. English: Yes, it is finished.

[3] French: Un bon nombre d'eux. Un trop grand nombre. Ils sont traités maintenant. English: Lots of them. Too many of them. They are being processed now.

[4] French: Non! Ma dette est payée. Vous dit ceci que ce soit. Pas plus. Nous sommes finis. English: No! My debt is paid. You said this would be it. No more. We are finished.

[5] French: Allez et soyez heureux. English: Go and be happy.

[6] French: Que faites-vous à la femme, vous monstre? Vous l'avez dite souffririez pas plus qu'un malaise mineur. Qu'est-ce que c'est? English: What are you doing to the femme? You said she'd suffer no more than a minor discomfort. What is this?

[7] French: Vous n'avez dit rien au sujet de ses puissances d'absorption. Seulement dit sa peau était dangereuse. English: You said nothing about her absorption powers. Only said her skin was dangerous.

[8] French: Je n'ai pas su. English: I didn't know.

[9] French: Ne mentez pas à moi encore. Vous prolongez votre dette avec chaque mensonge dont vous me parlez. English: Do not lie to me again. You extend your debt with every lie you tell me.

[10] I know Wolverine is from Canada and that the citizens of more than one of the provinces there speak fluent French, but as far as I know from the comics and from Evo, Wolverine can only speak English and Japanese. If he can actually speak French fluently, well, then for the context of this story, let's just pretend that he cannot. ~_~ooo

[11] There's much more to Remy's role in the duration of Rogue's captivity under Trask and Dr. Milbury. More will come in time.

* * *

**TIME LINE**

**- **_**14 days**_ (2 weeks before DoR). Magneto briefs Remy, Piotr & St. John on the Brotherhood and X-Men members (Ch. 3, Pietro's memory). Pyro asks if Rogue's power is to imitate the dead (I love that!).

_**0 days**_**:** DAY OF RECKONING. 1st news broadcast of mutants. Rogue, Logan, Fred, and Hank are captured by the Sentinel and held as prisoners in Trask's Institution (research labs).

_**3 days**_**:** RAID ON THE INSTITUTE. Described briefly in prologue.

_**5 days**_: Fury sends Carol undercover at Trask's installation.

_**8 days**_ (1 week and 1 day): Rogue convinces the prisoners to pass their blankets to Fred resulting in punishment from the guards: forcing an unconscious Logan's claws to pierce a collared Fred's skin and the winking guard (Renfield, Ch. 5) to break Rogue's legs (Ch. 4). Fred kept a shard of glass from the Dr.'s glasses, broken in Rogue's struggles (Ch. 4).

_**9 days**_ (1 week and 2 days): Remy meets Carol and they both try to play each other for information (Ch. 5).

_**10 days**_ (1 week and 3 days): Rogue refuses the doctor's many attempts to treat her festering broken legs (Ch. 5). Rogue first glances Dr. Milbury (though they do not speak to each other) while the more familiar doctor whispers to Fred (Ch. 5).

_**11 days**_ (1 week and 4 days): Guards stop feeding Rogue; Fred shares his with her, exactly what they wanted to happen (Ch. 5). After giving the winking guard the nickname Renfield, Dr. Milbury formerly introduces himself to Rogue and informs her that Fred told them her name and powers, well, that she absorbs psyches (Ch. 5).

_**16 days**_ (2 weeks and 2 days): Dr. Milbury catches Carol and Remy sharing information (Ch. 5).

_**23 days**_ (3 weeks and 2 days): With Trask in attendance, Dr. Milbury tests the ratio of touch-time to retention-time when Rogue, suspended in an open cylinder, absorbs Logan, strung up by his hands, in order to weigh the possibility that Rogue could survive the adamantium bonding process (Ch. 5). Dr. Milbury reveals his agreement with Trask: Sentinels provide mutant research subjects in trade for progress on the bonding process (Ch. 5). Gambit reports to Dr. Milbury that the assault on the Morlocks is complete and Rogue discovers that they work together (Ch. 5). Rogue absorbs Carol Danvers (Ch. 5)

_**42 days**_ (6 weeks): RESCUE. Mentioned in prologue. X-Men discover that Rogue has new permanent powers that allowed her to survive the warehouse collapsing on her and prevents Jean and Xavier from reading her mind (Ch. 1).

_**56 days**_ (8 weeks): PROLOGUE. It is revealed that Xavier changed the memories of Bayville inhabitants to make them forget that the X-Men and Brotherhood were the mutants involved in the news broadcast of the giant Sentinel attack.

_**70 days**_ (10 weeks): CHAPTER ONE. Rogue's 1st week back to school. Pietro tries to rescue Rogue from the dastardly Remy, who has so evilly trailed the Queen of Hearts card on her cheek. How horrible of him!

_**72 days**_ (10 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER TWO. Logan flashes back on his memories of the rescue, prompting him to confront Rogue about helping more with the reconstruction of the institute. Surprise, she's been avoiding using many of her new powers because she'd killed those whom she'd stolen them from.

_**84 days**_ (12 weeks): CHAPTER THREE. Sleepless Pietro confronts Gambit outside the mansion. Gambit gives him advice wishes him luck with Rogue.

_**85 days**_ (12 weeks and 1 day): CHAPTER THREE. Rogue skips out of the overcrowded breakfast and ends up being confronted by Scott. She explains how she hides her constant floating/flying, to keep from getting caught. Rogue/Pietro locker and lake scenes. Wanda tells Pietro he's without honor.

_**87 days**_ (12 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER THREE. Gambit slices the tarp to sneak into Rogue and Kitty's room to watch Rogue sleep. He uses his spatial (kinesthetic) sense and empathic (charm) abilities as a way to 'touch' her. Rogue pretends he didn't wake her. Logan bursts in, missing Gambit. Smell's fresh blood on Rogue, but doesn't know it's because she popped a bone claw out ala Wolverine. Gambit left a card with a note on it (see Ch. 4) for her.

_**90 days **_(12 weeks and 6 days). News report/interview with non-mutant Dr. Moira McTaggert of the Muir Island Research Center catches Xavier's attention.

_**91 days **_(13 weeks): CHAPTER FOUR. Xavier, Logan & Hank meet with Moira McTaggert, who, to inspire faith in her so they could work out a trade of services, gives them guaranteed contact to Jean-Luc for the hiring of a thief to track down some of Trask's files. Rogue and Pietro skip school and spend the afternoon on the mansion's reconstruction by themselves. Pietro throws a fit when he finds the card from Gambit. Fred gives Rogue the Hope Chest. Gambit again waits futilely in Spades for Rogue, who doesn't show (Gambit's note on the card he gave her in Ch. 3).

_**112 days**_ (16 weeks): CHAPTER FIVE. Gambit decides to only wait one more week for Rogue to show up at Spades (stage and spotlight references to standing in the cones of light on the street waiting for his leading lady to show). In remembrance, Rogue runs into Evan on her way to reveal the problem with her legs and chicken's out (Ch. 5).

_**115 days**_ (16 weeks and 3 days): In remembrance, Rogue chicken's out about telling the team about her legs again, this time after running into Fred (Ch. 5).

_**118**_ days (16 weeks and 6 days): CHAPTER FIVE. Rogue freaks out while trying to tell the team about her legs and Hank sedates her to calm her. She remembers several events that took place while she was imprisoned: meeting Dr. Milbury, meeting Trask, absorbing Logan and Carol, learning that Gambit worked for Dr. Milbury, being suspended in the open cylinder. She wakes from sedation during Wrestling Night (unofficial Thursday Family Night) and is plagued by the red-on-black numbers of her clock into going to meet Gambit at Spades the following night. So much so, that she stumbles downstairs to avoid them, and facing everyone, on impulse, shows them her dilemma with her legs. Psyche-Emma meets Psyche-Carol.

_**119 days**_ (17 weeks): CHAPTER FIVE. Rogue makes the team a southern dinner as thanks.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I know I promised the secret of Rogue's legs for this chapter. And to be quite honest, it is in there, sort of. It's just not said straight out. This is because Xavier and folk haven't figured it out for themselves just yet… and because this chapter was getting way too long.

* * *

_Thank you for reading and reviewing._


	7. Chapter 06 Joueur

**Callous**

**Chapter 06 – Joueur [1]**

_She came._

Four weeks and one hour and seventeen minutes late. But she came, nonetheless, a molasses-and-cream dream entering Spades, willingly placing herself into his domain. A gamble was being played by both. Cards had been dealt. The stakes were as high as they came and it was time to show each other's hands.

_She came._

She was dressed down, it seemed. Casual and comfortable and still all her own. His eyes trailed up from her worn black docs and up the soft line of her black jeans-clad legs. His eyes traced the slight swell and dip of her slim hips and waist. He admired the charm of her covered arms, from the black gloved fingertips all the way up the long sleeves of her black shirt, to the first breathtaking glimpse of her creamy skin, where the neckline of the shirt edged her shoulder. That flash of skin was a delicious treat that was only interrupted by the thin black straps of her tank top wrapping the curve of her obstinate and delicate shoulders from under the tee. Otherwise, his eyes had the taste of the dessert that was her bared shoulders and neck and face. Well, except for the makeup applied on her face. Some people may have been turned off by it, but Gambit understood the sensual beauty of its esthetic appeal. Some people felt compelled to gawk or let their gaze slide off her face, because of the white and purple make up, like they had seen something slippery and disturbing, but not Gambit. He appreciated her contrasts. She was resilient and vulnerable. She was hard and soft. She was brave and scared. She was independent and needing. She was wild and begging to be tamed. She was light and dark, the Ange Noir to his Diable Blanc, daring him to cheer and tame her while threatening to trust and crave him. In so many ways, she tasted of him, and yet even those things failed to turn him away from her. He doubted much would likely ever diminish her beauty to him.

_She came._

She graced right by the check people at the door. Not one of the three bouncers checked her ID, asked for a special invite, nor collected a cover charge from her. With dread, Gambit noticed that not a one of them had even rested an eye on her. Even as she paused a few feet inside, other patrons took no notice of her. They just merely moved around her without so much as a brush of clothing or a flicker of acknowledgment of her blocking their path. But, creepier to him, was the lack of tension the phenomenon incited in Rogue. It seemed… it seemed… it seemed, well, mundane for her. That made bile rise in his throat… and cause a shiver of thrilling happiness for her through him. She was permanently altered from Milbury's grotesque experiments, but she was also dealing with them, living with them, maybe even thriving with them.

_She came._

It didn't seem as though anyone else there could see her… nobody but him. He watched her from his usual spot on the couch in the dim corner. He watched her look around the room for him. The more he watched the faster his heart beat. As her eyes rounded the room, nearing him, his heartbeat became a hummingbird flutter, though nobody would notice his nervousness, his anxiety, his fear, or his hope were they to look at him. Outwardly, he was the same: nonchalant, at ease, confident, independent, and in control. They wouldn't ever guess that to him, his entire future lay in the motion of those emerald orbs of hers, rested in the miniature reaction that was soon to appear and alter her curious scowl, and depended on the tenuous fleeting whims of her emotions. It took every ounce of his pride and his will to refrain from touching her with his charm powers, his empathy, for he didn't want to force what he wanted, what he needed her to feel on her own. He wanted her to return his affections. He wanted it to be real.

_She came._

He never thought to question his own growing feelings for her. She had entered his life as merely a worthy adversary. Then quickly she had become a worthy challenge. But at what point, at which moment did he become so reliant on her glance for his breath? That, he couldn't answer. No more than a dozen sentences had ever passed between them, but he could no longer deny that she had somehow entwined herself in him. Could he even exist without her drifting through his thoughts, if not his sights? Did he ever even have a choice in how he felt about her? Was it fate? Was it destiny? Was it arranged?

_She came._

He had wagered everything on this moment. Didn't moments like these always feel that way? He thought so, but did she? He would know soon enough. He would know the moment her emerald orbs reached across the club, around and between dancing, drinking, laughing bodies, to meet his ruby on onyx orbs. Closer and closer they came and faster and faster his heartbeat fluttered. Almost there… ALMOST. Panic seized him. _What if_—too late. The club melted into a velvety void. The universe ceased to exist.

_She came. _

Penetration—her gaze enveloped his.

_She came for me. _

Emeralds filled him to brimming.

_She came for me and saw me. _

Now he could breathe.

_She came for me and saw me and didn't bolt. _

Now he could live.

_She came for me and saw me and didn't bolt and didn't frown. _

Now he was whole.

_She smiled. _

He was whole.

_SHE SMILED._

As far as Gambit was concerned, he won this hand.

* * *

Four days later…

Most of the inhabitants of the Institute, being teenagers, didn't tend to watch the news very often. Xavier, however, kept a very close eye on the news, especially, since that fateful day that the existence of mutants had been revealed to the world in one fell swoop. He had managed to alter the minds of the immediate populace that came in contact with his students on a regular basis… Other students, their parents, their teachers and other school employees, and so on. It had been an enormous undertaking for him to do so. It was physically and emotionally draining in more than one way. The action of doing it took its toll on him, sure, but going against his ideals and beliefs… forcibly changing the memories of all those people… that was his greatest regret and, thus, his greatest sacrifice, his greatest act of kindness he could ever perform for his students. As cliché as it had become, they were the world's future, the world's hope… for mutant kind especially. And he owed it to them, and then some. Could he ever do enough for them? Could he protect them as they are training to protect their kind? His kind?

He would try. He would damn well try.

One way he did that was by watching the news for the immediate repercussions of that fateful day in which the combined X-Men and Brotherhood members fought Magneto and Trask's Sentinel, all in the public eye of news cameras. Their secret was out. And it was the most delicate moment for human/mutant relations in this country… perhaps the world. It seemed the USA was the first to go public about mutants to the world and now the whole world was watching for how the American people would react. Well, at least the American people thought they did. Sure, the government already knew about the existence of mutants. How else would Trask's people have been able to get the funding for building the Sentinel and the research and holding facilities… no, not holding facilities, but prison facilities? Sure, there were many high level geneticists with knowledge of mutants. How else could Trask's people have designed the Sentinel to specifically target mutants? How else could scientists like Moira McTaggert, Dr. Milbury, and the few others leading the field possess the knowledge that they already did? But with the broader public's awareness came broad public scrutiny and broad public opinion. And that… that was where it all mattered.

And speaking of awareness and public opinion…

"…A community awareness meeting will be held on Wednesday at 7 pm," the anchorwoman's bland and precise voice sounded from the small television in Xavier's study. "Dr. Henry McCoy, a former teacher of Bayville High School who had left his position at the school in order to research the mutant phenomenon, will be a guest speaker…"

The anchorwoman's pre-written announcement continued as the screen was then filled with the address and other vital information for attending the meeting, but Xavier ignored it. His thoughts had turned to his concerns for Hank speaking at the meeting. An image inducer, much like the one Kurt used in public, was prepared for Hank, and Xavier's adjustments of the community's memories had included any possible recognition of Hank's transformation into the blue furred Beast that he and the other mansion's inhabitants had come to trust and consider their warm hearted friend. But, Xavier had not changed everyone's memories. He just couldn't account for every person in the general area of Bayville or every person they may have come in contact with following the initial broadcasts several months ago. He'd managed to make the local news station's employees keep from remembering they ever had a copy of the broadcast after he convinced them to destroy it. But still… it had already been re-broadcasted across the country. It would only be a matter of time before it made its way back into Bayville…

"There's some traffic slowing on I-95 past the… uh, Frank, you may want to get this!"

And the office faded into a velvety void. The universe ceased to exist… except for the video replay that was appearing on the television screen. There was Jean, Wanda, Pietro, Kurt, Hank, Rogue, Evan, Ororo, Todd, Fred, Kitty, Lance, Magneto, and Magneto's new team of three. All of them were there, in full use of their powers. Fighting. The Sentinel was seen as well, and the government troops attacking his students and the Brotherhood.

"Control… This is News Chopper six. We've got some stuff for the network feed. The whole world's got to see this [2]!"

The video made it look like the kids attacked the troops. It showed civilians scurrying away like helpless and terrified victims. It seemed as though the troops were protecting the public from the frighteningly powerful teens. And Xavier knew, right then and there, he knew what public opinion would be in Bayville. It would be just as it had become for the rest of the country. Fanaticism had a new name: MUTANT HYSTERIA. All forms of media were filled with propaganda.

"He's got a gigantic robot, using their super powers [2]."

"Who are they? Where are they from? Government investigators are looking... [2]"

"Rest assured we are doing everything in our power to get to the bottom of this [2]."

"What's your take, Senator? Are they men or monsters? And if they are humans, can we trust them."

"Alien invaders? Or some kind of strange mutation [2]?"

The plague of racism had gained a new strain to match the new strain of human evolution. Geneticism was born.

Xavier lowered his head into his palms.

_Three months… no four months was all I'd gained for them._ Erasing the specific memories of Bayville's residents hadn't been enough. The reward hadn't been worth the sacrifice that Xavier had made. _I cannot do it again._ His dream of a world where mutants and humans could coexist peacefully, contentedly, depended on his students' participation. _I cannot do it again._

The war was coming and he could not prevent it. He could only fight in it, now. That was all.

_I cannot do it again._

He pulled out the business card he'd found on his desktop less than a week ago. He had no idea how it had gotten there. Logan smelled a faint scent of someone, but he lost it at the edge of the woods that bordered the institute. In the end, it didn't matter. Xavier knew who had left it. Maybe not the specific person, but whom the person represented. He had left the appropriate phrase in the message on the voice mail of the number Moira had given him on the night that Rogue had shown them that her legs, physically healthy as they were, refused to hold her weight. Finding the card on his desk two days after that, the night following Rogue's thank you dinner, had thrown them, made them weary in pursuing assistance from the perhaps too sneaky Thieves Guild. But, that was before the video had resurfaced in Bayville.

Feeling at a loss for options, Xavier dialed the number on the latest card now.

"This is Xavier," he said when the line was picked up.

A clipped reply, "Tonight. Midnight. Your office. Alone." Then the line was dead.

Xavier had no idea as to who had spoken, specifically. The voice was heavily accented, but it was none he recognized, as had been intended. Even if he had used his telepathy, even with Cerebro's aid, he would not have been able to identify who had spoken. The distance was too great and the precautions taken, too painstakingly precise.

_I will not do it again. _Xavier replaced the card in its hiding place and slumped back in his chair. _But I will try something else. _

Xavier had lost this hand… and the one before it, and the one before that, and before that, and before that. Ever since Mystique showed up at the asylum, he'd been losing time and time again [3]. But he had one more hand to play.

And if this one failed… well, maybe he could find one more… Xavier would not give up.

* * *

Fourteen weeks and two days ago...

The whir of the hydraulics on the arm went unheard by all the interested parties in the room. Well... Trask may have heard them... but, Gambit? Gambit heard none of it. Yes, somewhere in his thief-trained awareness, he acknowledged it, but he was so focused on watching Rogue that he flinched when the woman's hand was pulled away from Rogue's bared stomach by the mechanical arm.

Remy stared at that place on Rogue where the contact had been made. There was no mark, no branding of any sort to show the damage that had occurred there. _Dere should've been somet'ing, non? How could somet'ing so traumatic leave no mark on her physical being, somet'ing dat would give me a clue to her well-being? Did she suffer as much as de fine tremor dat had run through her de entire time of de transfer suggested she had? Had she suffered more? Had she suffered less... or at all?_ He'd hoped not, but he also knew that it was too much to hope for. Still, he hoped anyway. He stared at that splash of perfection that was her stomach and hoped.

The skin was white, was cream against the molasses black of the shorts and sports bra. Her skin nearly blended with the white medical tape that held the sensors to her. If he'd let his eyes go blurry, it appeared as though the wires of the sensors sprung out of her, smoothly, like her arms and legs sprung from the trunk of her body. He was so caught up in his view of her that he hadn't noticed the steady rumbling growl erupting from deep in Logan's chest or the steady monotone beep from the monitoring machines... beyond that which his thief's training had subconsciously acknowledged. He hadn't noticed the woman's arm being replaced in the gurney's restraints. He hadn't noticed the hustle and bustle of the gaggle of scientists as they made notes, checked and removed the sensors on the woman. The woman he had known. She had agreed to help him pay a visit to Rogue only a few short days before. He had turned her in to Milbury when Milbury had caught them conversing in hushed voices in an unoccupied office that was off limits to both he and the woman. But, since the contact of that woman's arm onto Rogue's bared skin, the woman had ceased to be anything more to him other than a shell in the form of a body of the female gender. She was nothing more than The Woman... if she was even that much, anymore.

Beep.

It was quiet. It didn't even echo in that concrete room. Even if it had, Gambit wouldn't have heard it beyond the scope of his thief's training acknowledging it.

Beep.

It was there again... and this time, the room went still. Even Logan's growl lowered, though it hadn't disappeared altogether. Gambit, though, he was still focused on Rogue, and hadn't noticed. If he had, would that small sound have been enough to ignite the stirrings of hope as strongly as Rogue had ignited other things in him, things Milbury and Magneto had hoped to squash.

Beep.

"I've got a pulse!" That was one of the eager-beaver scientists. He announced it like he'd discovered the New World.

Gambit didn't take it like that. For some reason, in his current narrowed view of the world, Gambit took that as some significant sign to Rogue's well-being... or rather, her possible not well-being. And so, expectantly, his gaze snapped up to Rogue's, and he lost all feeling below his neck. _Or was dat from my heart on down? _

Rogue's head was lolled back and a little to the side, cradled in its stiff-yet-boneless position between her arms, which were restrained at full extension above her head. Her eyes were wide open, the whites showing fully as they were rolled back.

"She's alive?" That was Milbury. And he wasn't happy.

For a moment, Gambit couldn't breathe from the relief, but once he'd registered the angry surprise that had been present in Milbury's voice, he knew that Milbury had not been speaking of Rogue. Milbury cared nothing for Rogue, the person, but Gambit knew well enough that Milbury cared very much for Rogue, the test subject. Milbury wanted Rogue alive so he could continue his experiments upon her. Gambit, however, cared only for Rogue the person. As the scientist that had made the exclamation—and nearly every other person in the room—paused in pregnant fear from the tone of Milbury's disappointed question, Gambit flicked his eyes to Rogue's chest. He watched it rise and fall with her breath several times before he let his relief settle in for real.

It was the pompous Trask that had the gall to break the silence. "Had you meant to kill her?"

Milbury said nothing to Trask in response. He threw a look so full of impatience and hate at Trask that Trask actually stumbled backwards over his own feet. Milbury then slowly turned to his eager-beaver gaggle of scientists and said, "What does the EKG say?"

Gulp. It was audible. The scientist attending the EKG nervously wiped his brow then quickly examined the readout. "It says she's... um-m..." He stammered as he rechecked the readout twice.

"Well?" Milbury's voice was too reminiscent of the man Gambit knew him to truly be. Milbury was close to giving himself away.

The EKG scientist cleared his throat, using that moment to examine the readout once more to be sure, then said, "She has almost no brain functions, sir." He sighed and flopped his arms in a defeated-yet-exasperated manner. "By all accounts sir, this says she should not be breathing. She should not have a heartbeat. That's how little brain activity she has." He turned his eyes once more to the readout. Thorough confusion contorted his face. "She should be dead." It was hardly more than a breath.

* * *

Ironic, and amusingly deceptive, the offices of the Patriarch of the New Orleans Thieves Guild resided on the upper levels of the tallest bank building in the CBD of the Vieux Carre [4]. Who would've ever thought that the leader of some of the best-trained thieves in the world had the gall to operate out of a building that housed a bank that boasted having the best security system in the entire state of Louisiana? Ironic and brilliant, it was. Too bad Jean-Luc couldn't appreciate it anymore since the person's who's idea it had been to set up operations there could not step foot into it. Maybe not ever again.

If anyone who hadn't known better had looked at Jean-Luc LeBeau in that moment, he or she would've mused at how much Remy had inherited his father's mannerisms. Jean-Luc was perched in the bay window, watching the dusk settling like a wool blanket over a steam bath. One foot was planted solidly on the hardwood floor and the other one was planted just as solidly against the frame of the bay window seat about a foot up from the seat itself. One arm relaxed on the knee of that raised foot. The other arm hung limply at his side. He was leaning back, head resting against the frame opposite the side his foot was planted against. All at once, he appeared completely at ease, in deep concentration and reflection, and tensed and ready to spring out the opened window at any second. It was a pose that, indeed, his son had often been seen in when he was still living in New Orleans. The similarity of mannerism, personality, and attitude of Jean-Luc and his son truly were uncanny. However, Henri was the only child whom Jean-Luc ever sired. And though resemblances showed between Henri and Jean-Luc, it was Remy, Jean-Luc's adopted son, whom would've been mistaken so completely as a younger version of Jean-Luc.

"It's set," Emil, one of Jean-Luc's nephews, said after hanging up the phone, "Tonight, midnight, Xavier's school, just like y' said."

Jean-Luc didn't even turn to Emil. He merely nodded his head. Anyone who hadn't known better would've thought it was sad. But Emil had been a member of the New Orleans Thieves Guild since birth, as most members had been, and knew Jean-Luc almost as well as Henri and Remy did. Emil was a cousin to Henri and Remy, so his familiarity with Jean-Luc was to be expected. Emil was also third in line to replace Jean-Luc as head of this branch of the Guild. As part of the LeBeau clan, by way of his mother, Emil was every bit royalty as Henri and Remy were. Still, even royalty knew their place under their leader. And Emil was very loyal.

"Was dere anyt'ing else y' wanted t' add," Emil added hesitantly. "Perhaps, a message y' would like me t' pass along?"

Emil was loyal, but he was also family. Loyalty and family were very important things in the Guild. Family was the highest of priorities. It was the only thing ranked higher than loyalty to the Guild. It was above all else. Absolutely, above all else. In the Guild, upon age of ascension, each member must swear a vow to uphold first his clan, then the Guild, then the Antiquary, and finally, the trade, the art of thievery. It wasn't just duty that had prompted Emil's question to Jean-Luc. Emil missed his cousin as well. He missed his partner in mischief. He missed Remy Etienne LeBeau.

Jean-Luc released a long sigh, his shoulders slumping, his head bowing to rest upon his forearm. He exhaled the last of his regalia along with that breath, and inhaled another twenty years with his next intake. Even though the dim light of the Vieux Carre didn't show it, longing and regret etched deep lines into his forehead and dug dark circles under his eyes.

"I can't," Jean-Luc said. It was haggard. It was pained. It was sure. The issue had officially been closed.

Emil picked up the phone and dialed. Out of the corner of his eyes he watched Jean-Luc. He wished he could ease Jean-Luc's burden. But he knew of only one way to do that, and he knew it was impossible. They had yet to find a loophole that would allow Remy to return to New Orleans, even for a daylong family gathering. No matter how much they tried to retract it, Diable Blanc, The Ragin' Cajun, Gambit... Remy Etienne LeBeau was banished.

Banishment was severe in the Guilds. It was the most severe Guild sanctioned punishment next to death. It severed the recipient of the punishment from his friends, from his family, from his home. But it was a location severing only. Family was clan. Clan was top priority. And the only way to ever break from the Thieves' Guild permanently was to die. And Remy LeBeau was very much alive. But that, at that moment, was of little consolation to Jean-Luc, Henri, or Emil. Heck, there were a few femmes that were at a loss from the lack of Remy's presence in New Orleans.

Jean-Luc, however much he yearned for his son's presence, his son's voice, and his son's happiness, couldn't bring himself to actively participate in his son's life. It was just too painful a reminder of what would never be again. Guild business was the only contact between the two of them since Remy had been banished. And even then, the contact was through a third party. It allowed the distance to be more thorough. But, as much as Jean-Luc had hoped the distance would make the separation easier, it didn't. In some ways, it made it worse. Every time a third party connection was made, for a contract, for whatever, Jean-Luc was reminded of the loss of his son. And it hurt.

But he still held hope. If the banishment were lifted, he would welcome Remy home with the biggest party New Orleans had ever seen.

"Contract's accepted," Jean-Luc heard Emil say into the phone, "Tonight. Midnight. Institute office."

Another deal dealt... but sometimes it just ends in a tie.

* * *

Fourteen weeks and two days ago...

"Just get on with it, already!" That was Trask, of course. He didn't even try to disguise his impatience. It had been nearly an hour since the woman on the gurney had been drained. She was no longer in the room. She had been taken to another room to be studied at a later time. For the moment, Milbury and his gaggle of doctors focused on analyzing Rogue's readouts.

"Science cannot be rushed, Trask," Milbury said sickeningly calm, a childlike glee lighting his face. "There is much to be studied from this test before submitting her to the bonding process... if indeed she is ready for that."

"If?!"

Milbury raised a hand to shush Trask's outburst. "I only mean that we may be able to accomplish much more than just the bonding with this one."

"I don't see how or why these experiments—"

"Additions, Trask," Milbury interrupted, "Don't be so small minded."

"—Additions," Trask amended, then continued, "Can't they be done after the bonding process is completed?"

"So narrow a view possesses you, Trask," Milbury said as a whimsical expression settled into his entire body. It seemed as though a pleasant reverie had encompassed him, as though the greatest sense of accomplishment and peace had filled him entirely... completely.

It was enough to make Logan shiver. Remy may have as well, if he'd been watching, but he hadn't. Remy's entire focus was still on Rogue... At least that's how it appeared to Logan and everyone else in the room. If Jean-Luc or Henri or Emil had been there, they would have had a difficult time to keep from chuckling over Remy's deception. Sure, Remy was focused on Rogue. She was obviously the most important thing in the room to him. But, Remy was not oblivious to everything else that was going on. Remy was a master thief. Remy knew of everything that was occurring in that room. Everything. And he didn't even need to access his kinesthetic sense, the power he'd hidden from everyone, to do it. No, he hadn't needed to use his power for this. Instead, he merely used a trained skill of his, one that he'd first acquired when living homeless on the streets of New Orleans, one that he'd honed to perfection after being adopted into the New Orleans Thieves Guild by the Guild's head, Jean-Luc LeBeau. Remy was simply aware.

"This child is a geneticist's dream, Trask," Milbury continued in his whimsical way. "The possibilities are endless. Endless..." Milbury was quiet for a long moment as he fantasized about that statement. Finally, the reverie snapped, but Milbury's childlike glee did not leave him. "We will get to the bonding process if you still insist upon it. But, it may not be necessary. Think of this mere child NOT as a disgusting mutant or merely a husk to be transformed into you puny vision of a weapon. Instead, think of her as a lump of clay that could be molded into your most unattainably perfect being."

"What do you mean by 'perfect'," Trask asked shakily. He was obviously beginning to be creeped out by Milbury. "She is a mutant. She is an abomination."

"You may think that now, Trask. But, if my theories are correct, we could not only make her into your vision of the perfect weapon, but we could make her into an army of one." Milbury paused there and watched ambition light upon Trask's face. Hooked, Trask was. And now, Milbury would reel him in. "An army of one that we could clone over and over and over again..."

That very same crazed but enlightened glee that had filled Milbury's only a moment before now filled Trask's face. "An army of soldiers that were each an army in their own right..."

"Exactly."

"How long," Trask asked, trying to stay rational amidst his ambition. He looked intently at Rogue and the gaggle of doctors tallying and analyzing their data. Something didn't seem right, something was wrong with what he was seeing, but he couldn't figure out just what.

"A few weeks, to be sure," Milbury said, reeling Trask in a little more with every word. "Once I have the theory proved, the process will be short. Another week afterwards, maybe less. And then the cloning would start. I figure a month or two overall." It was so close.

"But, what about—" Trask began, but halted. That Something, finally, was obvious.

"The bonding process? We could still implement that, if you insist. And with all her additions, it would—"

"What?" Trask asked, momentarily confused by the sudden split of thoughts. "No, not that," he said, getting back on track, "I mean, yes, of course we'll use the bonding process, but that's not what I'm talking about now." Trask then pointed to the place where Remy had sat immobile since Rogue had been forced to absorb Carol for so lengthy a time. "Where is your associate?"

Milbury looked, and sure enough, Remy was gone. Milbury looked to Trask, who was looking to Logan. Milbury followed Trask's enraged gaze to Logan and saw the enormous grin plastered on Logan's face.

"Where is he?" Trask stormed up to Logan. "You saw him, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?"

"I didn't see nothin'," Logan said wryly, enjoying his petty torture of Trask and Milbury. "What could ya expect from a worthless mutie like me?"

"TELL ME WHERE HE IS!" Trask roared at Logan.

A quiet, but menacing growl that came from deep in Logan's chest was all the answer Trask received.

"Je suis ici," Remy said from behind Rogue's cylinder [5].

Logan chuckled, and it was frightening. It was part of the continuing growl. It distracted Trask long enough for Remy to have finished his task and move between Rogue and Logan. Remy gave the barest of nods to Logan, a show of appreciation that not even Trask noticed as he pushed past Remy to inspect the rear of the Rogue's cylinder.

"What did you do to it?" Trask asked accusingly, as though chastising a clumsy child.

"I did not'ing, not'ing at all," Remy said as he glided closer to Rogue. He reached up a gloved finger to stroke her cheek or arm, he wasn't sure which he wanted to soothe her more by... but he never made the contact. An image of the power test with the woman on the gurney sprung to mind and tainted that comforting gesture. So, he merely held his hand there, hovering just out of reach of her skin.

Logan's growl thickened, deepened, with Gambit's intimate gesture to Rogue, but Remy ignored it. He leaned in to Rogue's ear and whispered, "Je vous sauverai, ma jolie coquin. Ayez l'aucun s'inquiète. Ils payeront pour ceci. Ils souffriront pour ceci. Ils blesseront." [6]

"You tracked mud and leaves all over," Trask complained from behind Rogue's cylinder. "Get this cleaned up," he ordered one of the doctors as he came around the other side of the cylinder, the side opposite Gambit. He moved around in front of it, just as Remy pulled from Rogue and glided towards the center of the room in a lazy, bored manner. Trask followed closely on Gambit's heels, continuing his tirade. "Do you realize what that is? That is delicate machinery. If it weren't for that, you wouldn't be needed. You wouldn't have any purpose here! That machine is worth more than a hundred of you. No, more! A thousand of you!"

That's what Gambit was waiting for. It was just the right insult with just the right level of anger and animosity to prompt Remy's planned response of, "Merde! Se pacifiez-vous!" [7]. Remy turned on him and shoved his furious face into Trask's. "Y' precious bonding machine is fine." Gambit turned away then, to hide a chuckle at his own pun he could barely stifle, and continued his lazy glide further center of the room. "Dieu. Y' going t' blow somet'ing if y' don't learn t' relax."

The tracings of mud and leaves concealed the faint glow of a few other strategically placed leaves.

Remy, now some small distance from Trask, turned back to him, cooing and soothing Trask's warranted paranoia of Gambit by saying, "Just relax 'n everyt'ing will be fine... just fine."

* * *

Four nights ago…

_Not him, not him, not him..._

Rogue scanned the club in a maddening rush, but she forced herself to examine each person she saw carefully.

_He has to be here... he has to..._

Finally her vision crawled between dancing couples and singles, beyond a few tables, to settle on a lone figure on a crimson couch in the far corner of the club.

_He came!_

Four weeks after the initial invitation date.

_He came!_

Her eyes traveled up, drinking in the full sight of him. She almost couldn't bear it when the stubble on his chin entered her view, and still she let her eyes drift up, until finally... finally... their eyes met.

The club froze into a sparkling prism. The universe began anew.

_He came. _

Reflection—his gaze was hers.

_He came for me. _

Onyx revealed the Ruby in her.

_He came for me and waited for me. _

Now she could feel.

_He came for me and waited for me and didn't bolt. _

Now she was gaping.

She smiled.

She knew what living life was like.

SHE SMILED.

She was alive.

...And then the moment was over...

He rose and left the club, giving her a courtly bow as he passed her. She was frozen in place, her gaze on where he had been waiting for her. WAITING FOR HER! She didn't see him rush to answer his cell phone as soon as he'd passed her. Even if she had, it wouldn't have mattered to her. All that mattered was that he had shown... Four weeks later and he had still shown.

As far as Rogue was concerned, she had finally been dealt into the game.

Rogue reached back and grasped the gloved hand of the person she had brought with her for support, the person she'd kept telepathically hidden, even to HIM. She squeezed, gently, to make sure she had not been dreaming, that this had happened, that she was finally living life.

"I'm here," Pietro whispered reassuringly into her ear, pressing closer to her back as she squeezed his gloved hand. He mistook that minuscule gesture of hers as grief at Gambit's leaving. He mistook Gambit's leaving as teasing her... as rejecting her... as toying with her.

As far as Pietro was concerned, Gambit had taken the gamble too far.

* * *

Fourteen weeks and two days ago...

BOOM!

All eyes, wide, spun to the source of the small explosion... Rogue's cylinder. It was intact.

BOOM! BOOM!

Everyone ducked that time, unsure where the explosions were occurring, even though they sounded as though they came from Rogue's cylinder. But as they looked up this time, smoke and sparks and even a few flames flickered from behind Rogue's cylinder.

Logan freaked, going near feral at the sight of the smoke and flames coming from the back of the machine that restrained a still immobile Rogue. He yanked and yanked on his own restraints, to no effect, in attempt to break free and get Rogue away from the still lurking danger.

Trask stormed up to the gaggle of doctors and their monitors, roaring, "What have you fools done?"

"We didn't do anything!" and other similar exclamations of innocence burst from the gaggle of doctors.

Trask turned his fury on Milbury then, but Milbury wasn't looking at Trask or the doctors or Rogue. Milbury was looking at Gambit. A smirking Gambit. A proud Gambit. Proud until...

CREAK!

A sickening sound of twisting metal drew all eyes to Rogue's cylinder. It was falling, timbering forward. There was nothing between Rogue and the floor and the toppling weight of the adamantium cylinder that she was restrained in that would crush on top of her when it landed.

Wolverine doubled his efforts. Still, to no effect. Trask watched, mouth agape, in fear of the destruction of his precious bonding machinery. The gaggle of doctors and the dozens of guards that lined the walls of the room watched in awe. Milbury peered at Rogue's impending fate unfolding before him with the same removed inquisition he gave any of his experiments. He merely awaited the end result... the final outcome. Not a one of them made an effective move to save her from it...

Well, nobody except Remy Etienne LeBeau.

Gambit ran. He ran to her for all he was worth. He didn't even consider that there was no way he could free her before it impacted the concrete floor. He didn't even consider that he could be crushed by it as well. He ran and he slid, like a baseball player sliding for home plate to score the winning run. He slipped underneath the crested top of the cylinder without noticing that less than a foot of space existed between it and his chest, and then his head, as he slid under its falling. Going full speed as he was, his feet slammed into the base of the cylinder, which had remained locked in place on the floor, and he let his knees bend to absorb the impact of his sudden stop.

Rogue's wide-awake emerald orbs locked onto Remy's ruby on onyx orbs. Remy held that gaze as confidently as he held his outstretched hands to wrap around her as soon as she was close enough for him to do so. No thought of his own peril, either by the contact of his skin to hers or by the crushing weight of the cylinder crossed his mind. Well, it wasn't a concern of his until it DIDN'T happened.

The entire cylinder had halted mere inches from the floor.

A collective breath was released throughout the room, followed by cheers of happiness. Logan didn't cheer, but he did cease his roaring and growling for a moment as he took in the phenomenon. Rogue and Remy, the full lengths of their bodies mirroring each other, merely focused on each other's eyes, oblivious to everyone else in the room. And Milbury, he let a beaming, self-satisfied smile creep across his face.

The cylinder was hovering above Remy, which made everyone rejoice, but even more for Rogue and Remy, as they were the ones who had not been crushed. But the strain began to show on Rogue's face from her effort. _Her effort,_ Remy realized with a start. It was the combined use of Rogue's newly gained powers of superhuman strength and flight that had saved them.

Remy flashed Rogue a cocky grin. "Much as Remy like dis position, chère, Remy t'inks y' aren't ready t' be dis up close and personal." He lingered a moment longer before he scooted out from under her and the cylinder.

He, and everyone else present in the room, watched the painfully slow rotation of the cylinder. Once it had turned over, Rogue let her body relax into the half circle of adamantium at her back. Then cylinder finished its decent.

BAM!

* * *

Midnight.

Xavier had been waiting in his office for fifteen minutes already. He was still alone. There was no buzz from the Institute's outer gates. There was no knock on the front door. There was no sense of a foreign mind anywhere on the Institute's grounds.

He shivered slightly, from the disappointment of being stood up by his last ditch effort to protect his students from the mutant hysteria that had minced the country, not just from the breeze that came from the window behind him.

_Breeze?_

There shouldn't be a breeze. The window was closed. It was New York in late fall, so of course the window was closed. ...He looked behind him and found the window wide open. Alarmed, he turned back, preparing to call Logan and Storm and Hank telepathically. However, the sight of a suppression collar—an exact duplicate of the ones that had been worn by Rogue, Hank, Logan, Fred, and Evan during their imprisonment—sitting inert on his desk stopped him.

Someone was in the room with him.

He flicked his eyes around the room searching the shadows with his eyes as he searched for the intruder's mind with his telepathy. There! ...In the space by the southernmost bookcase, where the couch cast an elongated shadow on top of a taller shadow made by the next bookcase over, there was the presence of a mind. The mind was shielded... incredibly well shielded. Xavier would have had to work to break through it with his telepathy. His nerves—frayed as they were from all that had happened over the last several months—egged him to press with his telepathy and take the mystery person's purpose directly from his mind. Yet, the more rational side of him noted that this could very well be his contact to Jean-Luc LeBeau—could very well be Jean-Luc LeBeau—and forcing his way inside his or her mind would most assuredly cancel this meeting.

Xavier bore his eyes into the space where his telepathy told him the presence stood. He could faintly make out the outline of a masculine figure. He watched that outline for movement, for breathing, for blinking, but there was none. Finally, Xavier broke the silence and said, "I know you are there."

The man chuckled. It was good-natured, mischievous, and playful. He blinked. Three sparks of red and the man's cigarette lit.

Xavier gasped. He didn't mean to. But he couldn't help himself. He thought he'd never be surprised or disturbed by any mutation, not after dealing with Mystique, Hank, and Nightcrawler. Yet, still he gasped when he saw the three sparks of red. Only one of the sparks was the lighting of the cigarette, and even that hadn't been a flame from a lighter. The two other sparks were the man's eyes. They were his irises.

"Spooked?" The man asked. He had a heavy accent, just like the man on the phone. Southern, sort of, and French, sort of.

Xavier pulled out an ashtray and slid it across the desktop nearest the man. The gesture was intended to invite the man closer. But it backfired.

"No need," The man held up a glass ashtray, identical to the one Xavier had slid on the desktop, and tapped his ash in it. He waited for Xavier to look in the drawer where he had retrieved the ashtray he'd offered the man. Sure enough, one was missing.

"What is the point of all this?" Xavier asked as he returned his gaze to the three red points of light that was all he could see of the man. It wasn't antagonistic, but rather neutrally asked, considering he was asking it of a man he did not know, a man who had formidable shields against Xavier's telepathy, and man who had just broken into the office of one of the greatest telepaths on the planet.

Xavier watched as the man took a long slow drag of his cigarette, the glow brightening the man's young, stubble-covered jaw, and the contrasting maturity of his demonic eyes.

"This was t' show y' what I do," the man simply replied.

"You are very good," Xavier admitted.

Another drag of the cigarette showed the cocky, go-lucky grin that tugged the man's lips before he said, "Oui, I am one of de best."

His eyes closed, cutting off the two points of red there. Inhale. The hand holding the cigarette dropped down, out of sight behind the cover of the couch, cutting off the third point of red. Exhale. Xavier watched the puff of smoke swirl up and up.

The smoke cleared and the man was gone.

Xavier blinked.

A hand appeared in his peripheral, on the opposite side of where he'd been looking. Xavier looked up to the cocky, go-lucky grin of the young man that Xavier was now sure was his contact to Jean-Luc and the organization he knew only as the NOTG.

"Charles Xavier, oui?" The man asked, pushing his hand to again signal his intended greeting.

"Yes," Xavier said as he accepted the hand and shook it. For someone so young and playful, the handshake was quite firm and formal. "And you are?"

"I am Jean-Luc's favorite son," he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth, "I am Gambit."

* * *

**Footnotes:**

[1] French: Joueur. English: player or gambler.

[2] All of these were quoted from 'Day of Reckoning'.

[3] This took place in 'Hex Factor,' of course. Which, by the way is the episode that holds the secret to Mystique's impersonating Xavier in 'Day of Reckoning.' It's there, plain as day. And it's so obvious once you recognize it. Heehee... I can't wait to explore this aspect of the 'Day of Reckoning' story arc ... eventually.

[4] CBD = Central Business District. It is a common term for the few blocks of cityscape and skyscrapers located between the French Quarter and the Garden District. VIEUX CARRE = French quarter. This seems like a more tradition and slightly more formal terminology for the famous section of New Orleans. Its use is intended to give the Guild a sense of tradition and civility.

[5] French: Je suis ici. English: I am here.

[6] French: Je vous sauverai, ma jolie coquin. Ayez l'aucun s'inquiète. Ils payeront pour ceci. Ils souffriront pour ceci. Ils blesseront. English: I will save you, my pretty rascal. Have no worries. They will pay for this. They will suffer for this. They will hurt.

[7] French: Merde! Se pacifiez-vous! English: Shit! You calm yourselves!

* * *

**TIME LINE**

**- **_**14 days**_ (2 weeks before DoR). Magneto briefs Remy, Piotr & St. John on the Brotherhood and X-Men members (Ch. 3, Pietro's memory). Pyro asks if Rogue's power is to imitate the dead (I love that!).

_**0 days**_**:** DAY OF RECKONING. 1st news broadcast of mutants. Rogue, Logan, Fred, and Hank are captured by the Sentinel and held as prisoners in Trask's Institution (research labs).

_**3 days**_**:** RAID ON THE INSTITUTE. Described briefly in prologue.

_**5 days**_: Fury sends Carol undercover at Trask's installation.

_**8 days**_ (1 week and 1 day): Rogue convinces the prisoners to pass their blankets to Fred resulting in punishment from the guards: forcing an unconscious Logan's claws to pierce a collared Fred's skin and the winking guard (Renfield, Ch. 5) to break Rogue's legs (Ch. 4). Fred kept a shard of glass from the Dr.'s glasses, broken in Rogue's struggles (Ch. 4).

_**9 days**_ (1 week and 2 days): Remy meets Carol and they both try to play each other for information (Ch. 5).

_**10 days**_ (1 week and 3 days): Rogue refuses the doctor's many attempts to treat her festering broken legs (Ch. 5). Rogue first glances Dr. Milbury (though they do not speak to each other) while the more familiar doctor whispers to Fred (Ch. 5).

_**11 days**_ (1 week and 4 days): Guards stop feeding Rogue; Fred shares his with her, exactly what they wanted to happen (Ch. 5). After giving the winking guard the nickname Renfield, Dr. Milbury formerly introduces himself to Rogue and informs her that Fred told them her name and powers, well, that she absorbs psyches (Ch. 5).

_**16 days**_ (2 weeks and 2 days): Dr. Milbury catches Carol and Remy sharing information (Ch. 5).

_**23 days**_ (3 weeks and 2 days): With Trask in attendance, Dr. Milbury tests the ratio of touch-time to retention-time when Rogue, suspended in an open cylinder, absorbs Logan, strung up by his hands, in order to weigh the possibility that Rogue could survive the adamantium bonding process (Ch. 5). Dr. Milbury reveals his agreement with Trask: Sentinels provide mutant research subjects in trade for progress on the bonding process (Ch. 5). Gambit reports to Dr. Milbury that the assault on the Morlocks is complete and Rogue discovers that they work together (Ch. 5). Rogue absorbs Carol Danvers (Ch. 5), who survives, though is technically brain-dead (Ch. 6). Dr. Milbury plans to use Rogue to create an army of multi-powered soldiers (Ch. 6). Remy is nearly crushed by Rogue's cylinder while trying to save her (Ch. 6).

_**42 days**_ (6 weeks): RESCUE. Mentioned in prologue. X-Men discover that Rogue has new permanent powers that allowed her to survive the warehouse collapsing on her and prevents Jean and Xavier from reading her mind (Ch. 1).

_**56 days**_ (8 weeks): PROLOGUE. It is revealed that Xavier changed the memories of Bayville inhabitants to make them forget that the X-Men and Brotherhood were the mutants involved in the news broadcast of the giant Sentinel attack.

_**70 days**_ (10 weeks): CHAPTER ONE. Rogue's 1st week back to school. Pietro tries to rescue Rogue from the dastardly Remy, who has so evilly trailed the Queen of Hearts card on her cheek. How horrible of him!

_**72 days**_ (10 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER TWO. Logan flashes back on his memories of the rescue, prompting him to confront Rogue about helping more with the reconstruction of the institute. Surprise, she's been avoiding using many of her new powers because she'd killed those whom she'd stolen them from.

_**84 days**_ (12 weeks): CHAPTER THREE. Sleepless Pietro confronts Gambit outside the mansion. Gambit gives him advice wishes him luck with Rogue.

_**85 days**_ (12 weeks and 1 day): CHAPTER THREE. Rogue skips out of the overcrowded breakfast and ends up being confronted by Scott. She explains how she hides her constant floating/flying, to keep from getting caught. Rogue/Pietro locker and lake scenes. Wanda tells Pietro he's without honor.

_**87 days**_ (12 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER THREE. Gambit slices the tarp to sneak into Rogue and Kitty's room to watch Rogue sleep. He uses his spatial (kinesthetic) sense and empathic (charm) abilities as a way to 'touch' her. Rogue pretends he didn't wake her. Logan bursts in, missing Gambit. Smell's fresh blood on Rogue, but doesn't know it's because she popped a bone claw out ala Wolverine. Gambit left a card with a note on it (see Ch. 4) for her.

_**90 days **_(12 weeks and 6 days). News report/interview with non-mutant Dr. Moira McTaggert of the Muir Island Research Center catches Xavier's attention.

_**91 days **_(13 weeks): CHAPTER FOUR. Xavier, Logan & Hank meet with Moira McTaggert, who, to inspire faith in her so they could work out a trade of services, gives them guaranteed contact to Jean-Luc for the hiring of a thief to track down some of Trask's files. Rogue and Pietro skip school and spend the afternoon on the mansion's reconstruction by themselves. Pietro throws a fit when he finds the card from Gambit. Fred gives Rogue the Hope Chest. Gambit again waits futilely in Spades for Rogue, who doesn't show (Gambit's note on the card he gave her in Ch. 3).

_**112 days**_ (16 weeks): CHAPTER FIVE. Gambit decides to only wait one more week for Rogue to show up at Spades (stage and spotlight references to standing in the cones of light on the street waiting for his leading lady to show). In remembrance, Rogue runs into Evan on her way to reveal the problem with her legs and chicken's out (Ch. 5).

_**115 days**_ (16 weeks and 3 days): In remembrance, Rogue chicken's out about telling the team about her legs again, this time after running into Fred (Ch. 5).

_**118**_ days (16 weeks and 6 days): CHAPTER FIVE. Rogue freaks out while trying to tell the team about her legs and Hank sedates her to calm her. She remembers several events that took place while she was imprisoned: meeting Dr. Milbury, meeting Trask, absorbing Logan and Carol, learning that Gambit worked for Dr. Milbury, being suspended in the open cylinder. She wakes from sedation during Wrestling Night (unofficial Thursday Family Night) and is plagued by the red-on-black numbers of her clock into going to meet Gambit at Spades the following night. So much so, that she stumbles downstairs to avoid them, and facing everyone, on impulse, shows them her dilemma with her legs. Psyche-Emma meets Psyche-Carol in Rogue's mindscape. Xavier calls the Guild and leaves the message as directed by the card Moira gave him (Ch. 6).

_**119 days**_ (17 weeks): CHAPTER FIVE and CHAPTER SIX. Rogue makes the team a southern dinner as thanks (Ch. 5). She goes to Spades; Pietro (rendered telepathically invisible by Rogue) goes along to support her and prove he's not a complete, unrepentant jerk (Ch. 6). Though Gambit is there, they do not speak or directly interact (Ch. 6). Gambit leaves when the Guild calls him to inform him that Xavier has made initial contact via Moira's boon (Ch. 6).

_**120 days**_ (17 weeks and 1 day): Xavier finds a card left by a Guild member (Gambit, though they don't know that yet) on his desk to coordinate a direct meeting (Ch. 6).

_**123 days**_ (17 weeks and 4 days): CHAPTER SIX. News broadcast of the video of the Sentinel attack undoes Xavier's sacrifice (erasing the memories of Bayville). As a result, Xavier makes the final call to the Guild from the card left three days prior. Gambit is who meets him, and does so by sneaking in to prove his skills.

_**124 days**_ (17 weeks and 5 days): CHAPTER SIX. Hank McCoy plans to speak at a Bayville public meeting regarding the American mutant situation.

* * *

_Thank you for reading and reviewing._


	8. Chapter 07 Enamor

**Callous**

**Chapter 07 – Enamor**

Pietro stood inside the club, watching the entire exchange between Rogue and Remy... what little had occurred so far. Even before the exchange took place, he'd been wondering why he'd let himself get talked into accompanying her... why he agreed to let her keep him hidden with her telepathy... hidden from that damn Cajun. He didn't have to wonder long. He knew exactly why. His answer was in a memory, a memory that was now fourteen weeks and two days old.

He remembered...

The compound had been quiet. It had no reason to be on high alert. Sure, there were security measures being followed, maximum-security measures. But, it had been a month since the excitement of the Sentinel battle and the induction of four more mutants along with a fifth from earlier that week, a fifth that Trask had to have discovered was part of the same group that the four belonged to. The base was still a well-kept secret. Even the media leaks had not compromised their security. Government projects had a way of staying secret when they needed to be. So, Trask had no reason to be on alert for a break in.

The day of the mission, and of course, HE was not where HE was supposed to be. Over a month of planning, and HE was not where HE was supposed to be.

Pietro zipped up to Mags and the other two awaiting team members, Colossus and Pyro. With a self-satisfied smirk, he said, "He isn't at his location."

Magneto nodded, solemn.

_That's it. A nod! No tirade about insolence?!_ Out loud Pietro said, "I don't know why you trusted that he'd meet us here."

"Do not concern yourself, Pietro," Magneto said. "Gambit's whereabouts are not for you to worry about."

Pietro kept quiet for a while, sulking and grumbling, as his father explained the change in their plans caused by Gambit's "anticipated change of rendezvous point."

_What?!_

Those words spoken by Magneto got Pietro's attention.

_He anticipated Gambit's absence and STILL Gambit's included among his elite, still he's not angry at Gambit!_

This was about all Pietro could stand. He snapped, "This is ridiculous, father!"

Magneto spun to face Pietro. His ice blue eyes, eyes that mirrored Pietro's own, narrowed in quiet fury on his son. All the world stopped and watched him. At least, that's what it felt like to Pietro.

"You dare to question me? You know nothing, child!" Magneto magnetically floated closer to his son, making Pietro feel like an ant under a magnifying glass.

Tiny hairs rose all over his body. Thousands of tiny shocks bit at him as well. It took everything inside of Pietro to keep from cowering under his father's presence.

"If you had been paying attention," Magneto continued in his frightening quiet tone, "You would know what was truly going on. But no, not my son. My son's a sniveling brat who cannot follow a simple infiltration plan. And that is why Gambit is in there with Creed while you are out here asking stupid questions and holding us up!"

_Infiltration?! Gambit's inside? He's working undercover with Sabretooth. Creed's inside? When did all of this happen? ...Although, that explains how father knew so much about the compound. How he knew the employee's routines. How he knew where the mutant prisoners would be..._

Pietro was brought from his reverie by a jolt. He felt it slip through Rogue's telepathy and into him. Something sent a surge of joy and fear through her, strong enough for her still relatively uncontrollable telepathy to project it to him. One glance in the direction she was facing and he saw the cause of it, he saw the slick and suave Cajun rat... and he was... he was... Gambit was terrified?! Gambit wore the same look Rogue had worn when she'd requested Pietro accompany her on this outing.

He had been watching Rogue, as he had vowed he would, since the first time he'd discovered the playing card invitation to this club from Gambit. He'd been keeping a close eye on her since he discovered that Gambit had not only been sneaking onto the Institute grounds to see her from afar, but had also been sneaking into her room. Every night, Pietro camped out in the edge of the woods, just outside the grounds' walls nearest her room. At first, he'd spied the Cajun showing up almost every other day, except Fridays, the invitation days. Gambit climbed over the wall, hid in the shadows of a tall maple tree near her window and stared up at it for a couple of hours. But, slowly, week after week, the visits dwindled until he had only shown up once in the last seven days. And that one time, he'd changed his routine. He'd taken his perch under the maple, then disappeared for a while, then returned for a few minutes, and then left. It was his shortest visit to record, as far as Pietro had observed.

That night was no different, even if he was mostly watching to make sure Rogue didn't go to Spades more than seeing if Gambit would come here. He'd smelled the fried chicken Rogue had made. It had made his stomach grumble and grumble. It was as though a thunderstorm was raging in his abdomen. It was so loud at times, he thought it would give him away to Wolverine's heightened senses on one of his nightly prowls of the grounds. Oh, he was sure that Logan knew he was there. Every night, Logan passed by no more than twenty feet from him. But, for some reason, Logan never once called him out. Logan didn't even glance his way. Once, he even thought he saw Logan smirk with amusement. But, this night, Logan didn't come by. This night, it was Rogue that prowled the grounds. It was Rogue who glanced his way, and Rogue who called out to him.

"Ah know you're there, speedy," she called to him, practically looking right up at him through the leaves and branches of the tree he was in. She lifted the lid of the basket she carried and held it up to him. "Well, do ya want it or not?"

One more rumble of his stomach was all it took to decide. He was down an instant later, and a few minutes more had them sitting side by side, leaning back against the outside of the wall that his tree overhung. He munched on her homemade chicken and cornbread while she silently tore up leaves and broke up twigs into tiny, tiny bits. There was something both tortured and serene about her repetitive, purposeless tearing/breaking motions.

This went on for nearly half an hour, a serene and comfortable camaraderie, until Rogue broke it.

"Ya come out here every night, don't ya?"

_How-am-I-supposed-to-answer-that?!-She-already-knows.-That's-why-she-asked-it-like-that,-right? _The thoughts raced through his head as quickly as he raced to get there every night. Outwardly, though, he simply nodded.

"Because the exploding card guy, Remy, right?" Though he'd not been in her room, she'd sensed him outside. Even caught sight of him once or twice through a gape in the drapes before climbing into bed.

Again, he simply nodded.

"He's harmless, ya know." It was nostalgic.

He didn't nod that time. He put down the last piece of chicken, only half eaten. He had suddenly lost his appetite with her lofty tone in that last statement. He turned to her, incredulity marring his face that was flushed only a moment before, and peacefully contented, only a moment before that.

"He only watches me sleep... likens himself some kind of guardian angel."

"He's no Angel, Rogue," Pietro scoffed. "My father was _very_ proud of him." That last part was spat out like he'd tasted something foul and poisonous.

"He did help me in there. Helped me like ya did."

Pietro looked away and she grabbed his gloved hand with her gloved hand to make him meet her eyes.

"Thank ya, Pietro. For everything."

He felt the flush rise and he wanted to look away, but there was something he recognized in her confident and sincere and nonchalant expression. There was something underneath it, like the confidence and sincerity and nonchalance was a mask that was flaking, revealing something raw, something terrified and self-conscious underneath. He recognized it because he knew it so well in himself. It was something he did whenever he was in his father's presence. Something that rarely withstood his father's penetrating gaze.

"What do you need of me, Rogue?"

It was her turn to look away, and he almost made her look at him like she had to him a moment before, but her gentle squeezing of his hand stopped that.

"Ah need ta tell him thanks... but... Ah... Ya... Ah mean—"

He squeezed her hand back, stopping her that time, and whispered, ever so hesitantly, "I'll go with you."

When, in the club, Rogue's hand snared his and squeezed as Gambit answered his cell phone then left, Pietro again was brought out of his memories. But that sense of easing the vulnerability she was trying to conceal with her calloused veneer still rode him. He welcomed that small gesture with a warm rush of excitement for his place in her life, chased by a burning hatred for Gambit having caused the need for the gesture. If he'd realized the truth of how and why Gambit caused that need, if he hadn't mistaken it as a rejection, a teasing, a gamble played too far, he would've hated the Cajun even more than he already did.

But, that would come soon enough.

He pressed in closer to her, savoring the opportunity for what it presented him. She didn't pull away, so he closed the space between them, the lengths of their bodies touching in a single line, and he huskily whispered, "I'm here."

He almost couldn't believe it when she let her weight rest back against him. She was literally leaning on him, and she didn't lean on anyone. Rogue was a pillar of independence, strength, and self-reliance... a stoic solitaire. Yet, there she was, her head held by his chest and the crook of his shoulder and neck, placed there by her own volition. So, he took the opportunity one step further. He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her as he'd wanted to since that shining moment they'd shared in Trask's compound.

* * *

_She pleaded for me to go... to RUN!_

* * *

They had burst into the compound from three different sides. Colossus took out the south wall with his strength in organic-metal form. Magneto ripped out a chunk of the north wall by way of yanking on the metal framework built into the wall. Quicksilver went in with Magneto. It was as though Magneto didn't trust him to go in alone. Pyro went in the east wall, which was essentially the front door. His use of controlling flames allowed him to scatter the guards and keep them busy while the others entered and wreaked havoc on the compound. Eventually, Pyro worked his way deeper inside as well, though. The fourth wall, the west wall, originally, was supposed to be covered by Gambit, but Gambit was inside, doing who knows what to who knows which person. _Probably lost track of time flirting with some unknowing guard or scientist, stirring up some sort of mischief, _according to Quicksilver's insolent musings.

Once in, they each headed off to their designated tasks. Pyro and Colossus were assigned their primary tasks of their four part agenda. The first part was the retrieval of all the data on the Sentinel program and Trask's ultimate plans. The second part was the retrieval of all data on all the mutants imprisoned. Magneto, with Quicksilver in tow, tackled the third task of the four-part agenda. They headed to the closer of two possible locations for Sentinel construction. Their goal was the destruction of the Sentinel or any production mechanics that existed there. If all three of the primary tasks were completed quickly enough and with enough success, then Pietro would play the most vital role in the fourth task of their four part agenda. He would use his speed to release as many captured mutants as time and casualties allowed. For some reason, Pietro was just a little bit proud of the responsibility he held in their plan. Just thinking about it brought an '_I'm De Bomb_' smirk to his face. His father would not like his pride over heroic activities, and that, made Pietro want to do it even more.

* * *

_Her eyes pleaded as she was swallowed down, swallowed under. She pleaded for me to go... to RUN!_

* * *

WOM! WOM! WOM!

Klaxon's sounded immediately. The guards who rushed the doors of the gymnasium-like room never made it before Quicksilver zipped through and stole the guns from many of them.

_Made it easy for me, holding them out in front of them like gifts,_ Pietro thought arrogantly as he deposited all the guns in the far corner. He turned, zipping back to the center of the room and stopped short.

"!!!!"

There was Gambit. He was clutching for dear life to a cylinder that was magnetically suspended in the air. It was rising and Gambit wasn't letting go. He was yelling, his face contorted in desperation and anger, but there were so many other people yelling and fighting, that Pietro couldn't tell what Gambit was saying. Magneto was fairly oblivious to Gambit's frantic behavior. Magneto was too busy fending off the dozens of guards and doctors that were trying to stop him. He was too busy raising the hefty adamantium cylinder to use it as a battering ram to take out a horde of the guards at once. It was now lifted high enough that Gambit was dangling from it. It started moving sideways, and then halted abruptly.

Then it began to shake fiercely.

Then it began to glow.

* * *

_Rogue fell... Her eyes pleaded as she was swallowed down, swallowed under. She pleaded for me to go... to RUN!_

* * *

Pietro, confused, looked to his father. Magneto's face was contorted in frustration and intense concentration as he tried to make the cylinder move to his whims.

The glow spread.

The shaking increased.

The metal whined.

It was all too much.

Gambit's hold slipped.

Pietro zipped up to Gambit, glad for the chance to rub Gambit's failed attempt to thwart Magneto in his face. Pietro had no idea why Gambit had been so desperate to stop Magneto's use of the cylinder. All Pietro cared about was Gambit's failure... and Gambit's impending demise when Magneto punished him for his rebellion.

"Traitor!" Pietro hollered as he barreled into Gambit. They rolled to a stop and Pietro rushed to continue the fight, but Gambit had not. Gambit wasn't even looking to Pietro. Being so thoroughly ignored infuriated Pietro even more. He was tired of being ignored, of being used. And Gambit would pay for it.

He hefted Gambit up by his collar, pulled back his fist, preparing to land a hundred mile an hour punch to his face.

"Rogue's in dere," Gambit said, still not looking to Pietro.

It took a moment to register, but Pietro finally understood. Well, he sort of understood. He understood Rogue's peril—_and why should I care! She's an enemy! She deserted the brotherhood right after I joined! Why-should-I-care-about-her? AndhowcanshedoTHAT?!_

Rogue was again using the absorbed powers of Carol Danvers', the woman who had been on the gurney. She was using the unfamiliar powers of flight and superhuman strength to keep Magneto from launching the cylinder with her in it. The impact would be tremendous. It'd be far worse than crashing to the floor would've been. Whoever was caught in its path would surely die, wouldn't they? She wouldn't survive it, would she? She was merely flesh. She wasn't invulnerable. She couldn't even think straight cause there was something alien in her mind! Something more and less than whole. She couldn't even consciously register everything that was changing in her. Using the strength and flight was a fluke, she didn't even consciously know she had them yet, her mind was so swollen and swirling from the intensity of the overlong absorption; they just worked when she'd panicked. But this, what could she do to stop this? She wouldn't survive it!

Glowing, shaking, whining—too much stress—TOO MUCH!

* * *

_My failure... A bullet fired... Emma's failure... A second bullet fired... Rogue fell... Her eyes pleaded as she was swallowed down, swallowed under. She pleaded for me to go... to RUN!_

* * *

Magneto won. Rogue just couldn't fight it anymore. The cylinder flew. It was fast... so fast. Even Pietro thought it was fast. With Rogue's unexpected release of fighting Magneto's pull on the cylinder, it snapped like a rubber band pulled too taught, out of Magneto's control. It caught the guards that didn't duck in time, slammed into the wall, and through it.

Dust filled the room and it was some time before anything could be seen. Pietro was surprised to find himself so near the wreckage. He was even more surprised to see one doctor at the edge of it, about to dig through it. But, for some reason, he wasn't surprised to see Gambit on top of the wreckage, already digging into it. Gambit held a torn bit of cloth to his mouth to block the dust so he could breathe.

"Get them!" Trask ordered the guards between coughing spurts.

Some guards attacked with fists and knives right away. Others scrambled to their guns. No matter what they did, though, they only attacked Magneto and Pietro. Pietro was busy with them for a while, so he didn't see the progress that Gambit, the first doctor, and the other doctors that the first doctor had ordered to help, were making in finding Rogue.

"Let me go!" Gambit yelled. Pietro couldn't pause long enough to see why.

More fighting, and then Pietro heard, "I found her!" Then, "She's alive!" And, "That's impossible!" A lot of French followed. Pietro thought it was a mixture of curses and relieved exclamations, but he was still too busy fighting guards to even bother trying to focus on what Gambit was involved in.

Finally, he was able to look over. To his amazement, he saw Rogue, walking on her own, and Gambit, being led out of the room by guards. He also saw a glint of metal around their necks. He was a little uneasy about the wave of elation that passed through him at the sight of Rogue, but it was soon overtaken by a familiar wave of nausea and disorientation that he recognized as a sign of his father having just sent a magnetic pulse through the room. The smell of electronics burning immediately followed it.

Pietro gave the room a once over. Nearly all the guards were dazed or unconscious. The few that were standing with fight left in them wouldn't be any match for the two of them. He'd noted that Trask and the doctors were gone, and that Logan, appearing quite rabid right then, was still restrained (stretched taut and suspended by his hands) just as he had been when they had first entered the room.

"Go after Gambit," Magneto ordered.

"Gambit?!" Pietro couldn't believe it. He was being sent to fetch the Cajun.

"He'll be free by the time you reach him, I'm sure," Magneto briefly explained, his voice thick with annoyance, "He'll explain what his tasks are."

"Where will you be?" Pietro couldn't help but fear that his father had finally grown tired of him and was sending him off to become a prisoner like Rogue and Gambit were.

Magneto huffed. Pietro could've sworn he actually saw steam come out of his ears. "I'll be assisting Pyro and Colossus."

"What about him?" Pietro pointed to Logan.

"He's not going anywhere. Leave him."

* * *

_The side effect of my speed let me see it all in slow motion... made me see it all... My failure... A bullet fired... Emma's failure... A second bullet fired... Rogue fell... Her eyes pleaded as she was swallowed down, swallowed under. She pleaded for me to go... to RUN!_

* * *

ZIP! ZIP! ZIP!

_Nope,-not-here,-not-there,-and-no,-that's-not-them-either._

Pietro was sure he'd been over that entire compound at least once, but still he hadn't found Gambit and/or Rogue. Sure he saw signs that could've pointed to their having gone a certain direction, but then, again, they could've been signs pointing to where Colossus or Pyro had gone too. Scorch marks were scorch marks. Pietro had no clue how to discern which were made by one of Gambit's exploding objects and which were made by Pyro's fire control. He saw dents and torn chunks of wall and firearms, which really hinted at Colossus's superhuman strength and durability, but after seeing Rogue stalemate Magneto while in that cylinder for so long—not to mention surviving the collision afterwards—who knew what powers Rogue possessed now.

ZIP! ZIP! ZIP!

More corridors, more downed guards, more remnants of fights... more dead ends...

_Wait,-what's-that?!_

It was a pick... a lock pick. Lying on the ground next to four downed guards. Gambit was the only person he knew of that carried picks on him all the time. Pietro searched the guards and the path their particular incursion left. Bingo! There was a collar. But only one. So, he continued following that path. Further ahead there was a set of handcuffs, and beyond that, a second pair.

_Looks-like-they're-discarding-things-while-running._

Only... they seemed to be heading towards the areas that Pietro remembered his father had described being where the cellblocks were. That didn't make sense. Gambit hadn't been assigned the task of releasing the prisoners. He wouldn't knowingly lead them in that direction. There would likely be more guards there since the klaxons went off.

Pietro shrugged. _Maybe-they-were-chased-this-way._

Blood. That got Pietro's attention. A spot on the wall, like a smeared handprint as someone grabbed the wall while swinging around the corner at top speed. He continued, following the way that the leads were taking him. More blood. Drops on the floor this time. He gulped. If it was the Cajun's blood a part of him would rally—quietly and not in front of his father, since his father seemed to favor Gambit so much—but he would rally. But, if it were Rogue's, well, he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Technically, she was his enemy. But that seemed like light-years in the past at the moment.

More blood drops, closer together, and bigger, led Pietro further and further into the bowels of the compound. He followed, like an obedient lackey of his father's should, and kicked himself for following his father with every new sight of blood.

Wham! Crunch! Rrrrip!

Sounds of a struggle came from down the corridor and around a corner. Pietro zipped up to it and peaked around.

Gambit took a punch in the gut by Sabretooth. He doubled over, slamming back into the wall. His bo-staff slipped from his grasp and clanged to the floor. Sabretooth went in for another punch. Gambit dodged. Sabretooth's fist cracked against the wall. He roared and dove at Gambit, who spun, kicked off the wall, and swiped a kick to Sabretooth's head.

WHAP!

Pietro cringed. _That really looked like it hurt. Good thing Sabretooth's got a hard head—_chuckle—_and a healing factor._

They were locked arm to arm, rolling into the wall and crashing to the floor. This opened up Pietro's view beyond them, where he saw Rogue, huddled on the ground, frantically switching her attention from watching Sabretooth and Gambit's fight to trying to blindly pick the lock on her own collar. He watched her shift her sight from the fight to an awkward attempt at seeing her ministrations on opening the collar just as Gambit and Sabretooth rolled toward her. Something in Gambit's hand was glowing, though Pietro couldn't tell what, only that it was held between Gambit and Sabretooth. Sabretooth growled. Rogue's eyes flicked nervously to them, but flicked back to her work on her collar, keeping her focus, no matter what.

Punch. Kick. Glow. Roll. Growl. Glow. Slice. Punch. GLOW. ROLL.

Pietro slipped by, grabbed Rogue and kept going.

KABOOM!

He didn't hear the faint clang-clang of a collar hitting the wall and then the floor as he sped off.

* * *

_It was like being frozen in place while on a sugar high overload! I'd never hated my mutation more than in that instant. The side effect of my speed let me see it all in slow motion... made me see it all... My failure... A bullet fired... Emma's failure... A second bullet fired... Rogue fell... Her eyes pleaded as she was swallowed down, swallowed under. She pleaded for me to go... to RUN!_

* * *

_"Stop..."_

_I didn't._

_"Pietro, stop!"_

_I ignored Rogue and kept running. It was all going wrong. None of this was supposed to happen. They weren't supposed to be captured. Rogue wasn't supposed to be captured. I admit it. The fight was a trap for the X-Men and the Brotherhood. But they weren't supposed to be captured. They were supposed to win. They were supposed to fight the Sentinel alongside us. They were supposed to see the dangers that the world presented against mutants. They were supposed to see that not even the US of A, home of the brave, land of the free, was immune to subjugating mutants... The whole purpose was to make Xavier realize the futility of his dream of peace. And Magneto wanted proof of it broadcasted all over the country, all over the world._

_"AH!"_

_Ironic, Xavier hadn't even been there._

_"SAID!"_

_Mystique had fooled us all with her impersonating Xavier._

_"STOP!"_

_And I did stop. I didn't stop because my legs had stopped pumping, stopped their propelling motion. It was because Rogue had stopped us. I was shocked, to say the least. Sure, I'd seen her display with my father while she was in the cylinder, but this was different. This I felt._

_It was sudden. It was instantaneous. And I could not overcome it._

_I ceased my futile efforts and looked at her, hovering still, holding ME up with a fist gripping my uniform instead of me carrying her. Her collar was gone. That was new to me, but it at least explained her being able to stop me... a little bit. I still didn't know how she got these powers, what they were exactly—well, she was obviously stronger and could fly, or hover at the very least—and why they hadn't worn off yet._

_She took having my attention on her as her cue to drop me. Her impatience was showing._

_"Ah'm not leaving the others here. Ah'm going back for them. You can come or you can leave. It's up to you."_

_And she left. She flew back the way we came. I watched her go; watched her take back all the progress we'd made in our escape of it all._

_And then I got off my butt and followed. I caught up with her pretty quickly. I didn't think she was flying her top speed. I didn't think I could catch up if she flew her top speed. But, I also didn't think she knew exactly where she was going. Made sense, actually. It was unlikely they gave her a tour of the place when she arrived._

_She glanced to me. I didn't know why, but it made me feel special. She didn't even smile or anything; just let her determination show. Still, I felt like she was glad for my assistance. It was like I was with the brotherhood again, like we were teammates again. I'd lost that sense of camaraderie when I sided with my father. And in one moment, racing side by side with Rogue, I'd regained it. In one shiny moment I knew what friendship was, I knew what family was... I knew what love was._

_

* * *

  
_

Spades...

Pietro took the opportunity one step further. He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her as he'd wanted to for so long.

Rogue tilted her head up, smiling, and he felt special. Rogue rarely smiled in any way, so it meant a lot when she did.

"He came," She said.

All Pietro could do was nod. _Fine, she was smiling because of Gambit... but I helped that. I was here for her when she needed me. Part of that smile is mine._ He nodded, and he held her, because she let him.

* * *

_We reached the intersection from where the three cell blocks stemmed. There was a single guard there, sitting at a desk, with groups of keys on a board of hooks behind him. Rogue looked at me with a question and I realized that she didn't want to take him out her way... In any of her ways, including the new ones, the ones she'd just gained. At the time, I figured, the powers were on their way out. I learned that wasn't so, later. But right then, it didn't matter and I didn't question it too hard. I simply zipped by and stole the keys._

_It had felt so good to be needed._

_It was her suggestion that we each take a different cell block, her the far right, me the far left, and that we would meet in the center block, letting the first one there take the responsibility for releasing the prisoners in that one. I let my pride—the thrill at being trusted and given a responsibility that meant so much to her—deceive me. Sure, it sounded like a perfectly rational, efficient, and reasonable plan, but as soon as we'd separated, dread nagged me. I felt like I'd been tricked. I felt like Rogue had been humoring me with the responsibility. But, I squashed down that dread, blaming it on my father's repeated Pietro-bashing. Yet, even through the glee I felt when I reached the far left cellblock and found that it was full of mutants that would be grateful that I was there to set them free, that dread twitched inside of me. With every increase in my excitement an equal increase echoed in the dread. When I'd reached the middle cell block and saw I was there first, my pride soared, but the dread roared. And still, I squashed it down. I liked feeling good for once. It was addictive. It was dangerous. It was deadly._

_There was a tragic flaw in the plan and I just couldn't see it. I was too close and I couldn't see it. I was too arrogant, so I didn't see it._

_I was near giddy as the halls filled with the newly released mutants. There were so many of them. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't conceive how Trask could possibly have gathered so many of them [1]. I didn't even think there were this many mutants in the entire world, let alone the United States. I actually bounced around, zipping as quickly as I could amongst the hundred freed mutants—well as much as their crowded rush for the exit allowed—yelling, "I am the best! I am the best!"_

_High with the knowledge of another challenge beaten as much as I was with the heroism of it, I rounded the corridor and glimpsed into the third cellblock, the one that had been to the far right, the one that Rogue had taken._

_As I passed by it, I saw all the activity inside and I yelled, "We are the best!"_

_For such a quick view of the cellblock, I saw a lot, but the truth of what I'd seen didn't sink in for a few vital moments. The main floor area was packed tight with people, but there were only a few that were slipping into the stream of fleeing mutants in the corridor. And those that were exiting were doing so in panic, not joy. The few moments it took for that to sink in allowed me to be swept out of reach of the door by the stream of the fleeing mutants. It was damn near impossible to back track and reach the doorway. I couldn't speed through. There were too many of them, too closely packed together, and too focused on fleeing. I was wading through the strongest of currents, one that was fueled by thoughts of freedom. Finally, I'd swung myself around the frame and inside, only to be yanked back by a blond bombshell who spoke directly into my head._

_~"Follow the others, they're going the right way."~_

_I got the idea that she was trying to be reassuring, but was failing at it. I studied her a moment, shocked by her audacity at telling me, the great Pietro Maximoff, her rescuer, where to go, and surprised that she had her powers. I looked to her neck. Sure enough, she didn't have a collar on. I grew suspicious of her immediately. I hadn't been able to remove any of the collars from any of the prisoners I'd released. She must've had a similar thought because her face scrunched up and she asked, coldly, "Where's your collar?"_

_"Where's yours?" I asked back, but she didn't answer. Her head snapped to they side, and following her line of sight, I saw Beast, shoving ferociously through the crowd inside that third cellblock. She must've said something to him telepathically cause he screeched to a halt, and rounded to look at her. He then saw me and snarled, barreling straight at me. I thought he was going to tackle me when he came to a sudden and purposeful stop right in front of me._

_"What are YOU doing here?" Hank asked, though it was more of a growl. I realized, then and there, that he was called Beast for more than just his ape like features and his blue fur. In that instant, he was less tame than Wolverine. I nearly peed my pants._

_"I'm with Rogue," I managed to sputter. Three simple words, that's all they were. But just saying them was like pulling on a suit tailored just for me. It was a perfect fit._

_Hank looked at me strangely for a moment, maybe because of some expression I'd made, then nodded to Emma. That was her name—Emma. We must have exchanged brief introductions at some point, but I never recalled them specifically. Anyway, after Hank nodded to Emma, he made to shove and bound back through the crowd and into the cellblock's inner depths again, but Emma's hand on his shoulder, stopped him. She spoke aloud when she said, "Rogue was right, Hank. You're a doctor. They will need you more out there than she needs you now..."_

_She said more to him, but I didn't listen. Rogue needing help was all that had registered. Everything after that bled together for a while. I didn't see Beast leave, though I ran into him after it was all over and found out that was when he had left. I didn't see Emma push her way deep inside the cellblock. I didn't even notice that I'd shoved my way inside the cellblock until I was a good twenty feet in._

_Chaos. Utter chaos. That was the only description for it. The people I was pushing through weren't freed mutants. They were guards. Most of the cells in there were still filled with mutants. I glimpsed Fred on the bottom near the end. Rogue hadn't even gotten that far into the block. Only the first six or seven cells on the bottom row nearest the block's entrance were torn open and there were only three more cells before Fred's. Three more and Fred would've been free. Three more and his girth and strength and invulnerability would've been able to help Rogue fight off the guards..._

_There were so many guards. The room was packed so tightly with them, there was hardly breathing space. As it was, though, Fred was slicing and dicing any and all guards that had the unfortunate luck of nearing his cell. Fred had some kind of a makeshift knife. The knife looked like a chunk of concave glass... literally, it looked like a broken chunk of a pair of glasses._

_~"Speedy!"~_

_I broke from my awe of all that was going on around me, snapping to attention with Emma's screech._

_~"Stop him!"~_

_She pointed past me, high up. I looked and saw that one of the guards had climbed piping that ran up the wall to give him a clear view of the room. He was perched atop another pipe that crossed overhead. His back was pressed against the wall, one foot wrapped the pipe he was on and the other braced against the one he'd climbed. He was aiming a rifle as I looked. I followed his line of sight and—holy shit—there was Rogue, tossing guards this way and that. She was hard to see. She bobbed up and down, giving me brief glimpses of her. Immediately surrounding her was a thrashing circle, a whirlpool, a mosh pit, centered on slamming Rogue. A glimmer flickered above her and beyond her, and, looking to it, I saw a second guard trying the same stunt as the one that Emma had pointed out to me, but on the opposite side of the block._

_~"I've got him! Get the other one!"~_

_It was an order, and I, for once, felt no need to rebel against it. I pushed and shoved and kicked and yelled, but I barely moved more than a few feet. How did I ever make it this far in the first place? It seemed so impossible now. I wasn't making fast enough progress and I was beginning to panic. All the guard needed was one good lock on her, one extended moment of her bobbing up, and he'd have her, dead on. The itch to speed, to reach her, to stop the man with the gun, was maddening. It was like being frozen in place while on a sugar high overload!_

_I'd never hated my mutation more than in that instant. The side effect of my speed let me see it all in slow motion... made me see it all... My failure... A bullet fired... Emma's failure... A second bullet fired... Rogue fell... Her eyes pleaded as she was swallowed down, swallowed under. She pleaded for me to go... to RUN!_

_On that day, I learned what it was to love and I learned what it was to hate. And again, AGAIN, I'd learned regret._

_I heeded Rogue's plea and ran. I, Pietro Maximoff, AKA Quicksilver, the speed demon, ran._

_I ran._

_I ran away._

* * *

This time, though, in the club called Spades, Pietro refused to run.

Pietro tightened his grip around her, tightened the embrace. He reveled in that contact she'd allowed him. And then, slowly, ever so slowly, in contradiction to his nature and to the pounding beat of the club's tripped up gothic music, he began to sway, pulling her ever so gently to match the rhythm he was building for just the two of them.

His arrogance fought with all its might against the idea that Rogue was imagining that his arms were the Cajun's arms, that his rhythm was the Cajun's... that he was Remy LeBeau—charmer, thief, fighter, gambler, and winner—and not Pietro Maximoff—deserter, betrayer, fleer, liar, and loser.

But he was Pietro Maximoff. And he was the one who had her in his arms right then.

At the back of Pietro's mind, he admitted the possibility that she was imagining he was really Gambit, though. And that possibility was enough to keep him from deluding himself. It was enough for him to have a reason to fight for her.

This time, Pietro refused to run.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

[1] How did Trask get so many mutants? Well, from a well-known (in the comics at least) community of mostly grotesquely disfigured mutants called the Morlocks, that's where. Unlike in the comics, I decided not to have Gambit lead Sabretooth to kill them, but to succeed in just capturing them. I didn't make this change to make Gambit seem more likable. In fact, it seems he helped them to a fate worse than death: an undetermined amount of time in Dr. Milbury's tender care.

* * *

**TIMELINE**

**- **_**14 days**_ (2 weeks before DoR). Magneto briefs Remy, Piotr & St. John on the Brotherhood and X-Men members (Ch. 3, Pietro's memory). Pyro asks if Rogue's power is to imitate the dead (I love that!).

_**0 days**_**:** DAY OF RECKONING. 1st news broadcast of mutants. Rogue, Logan, Fred, and Hank are captured by the Sentinel and held as prisoners in Trask's Institution (research labs).

_**3 days**_**:** RAID ON THE INSTITUTE. Described briefly in prologue.

_**5 days**_: Fury sends Carol undercover at Trask's installation.

_**8 days**_ (1 week and 1 day): Rogue convinces the prisoners to pass their blankets to Fred resulting in punishment from the guards: forcing an unconscious Logan's claws to pierce a collared Fred's skin and the winking guard (Renfield, Ch. 5) to break Rogue's legs (Ch. 4). Fred kept a shard of glass from the Dr.'s glasses, broken in Rogue's struggles (Ch. 4).

_**9 days**_ (1 week and 2 days): Remy meets Carol and they both try to play each other for information (Ch. 5).

_**10 days**_ (1 week and 3 days): Rogue refuses the doctor's many attempts to treat her festering broken legs (Ch. 5). Rogue first glances Dr. Milbury (though they do not speak to each other) while the more familiar doctor whispers to Fred (Ch. 5).

_**11 days**_ (1 week and 4 days): Guards stop feeding Rogue; Fred shares his with her, exactly what they wanted to happen (Ch. 5). After giving the winking guard the nickname Renfield, Dr. Milbury formerly introduces himself to Rogue and informs her that Fred told them her name and powers, well, that she absorbs psyches (Ch. 5).

_**16 days**_ (2 weeks and 2 days): Dr. Milbury catches Carol and Remy sharing information (Ch. 5).

_**23 days**_ (3 weeks and 2 days): With Trask in attendance, Dr. Milbury tests the ratio of touch-time to retention-time when Rogue, suspended in an open cylinder, absorbs Logan, strung up by his hands, in order to weigh the possibility that Rogue could survive the adamantium bonding process (Ch. 5). Dr. Milbury reveals his agreement with Trask: Sentinels provide mutant research subjects in trade for progress on the bonding process (Ch. 5). Gambit reports to Dr. Milbury that the assault on the Morlocks is complete and Rogue discovers that they work together (Ch. 5). Rogue absorbs Carol Danvers (Ch. 5), who survives, though is technically brain-dead (Ch. 6). Dr. Milbury plans to use Rogue to create an army of multi-powered soldiers (Ch. 6). Remy is nearly crushed by Rogue's cylinder while trying to save her (Ch. 6). Magneto's new team attacks Trask's installation (Ch. 7). Magneto unknowingly uses Rogue's cylinder to pummel a squadron of guards (Ch. 7). Gambit and Rogue, collared, are taken away, and followed by Pietro, who snatches Rogue and tries to flee, but Rogue convinces him to help her try to free the imprisoned mutants (Ch. 7). Splitting up, Pietro sets loose one of the cellblocks, but Rogue runs into trouble (Ch. 7). Pietro and Emma try to stop guards taking aim on Rogue, but fail, and Rogue is taken down (Ch. 7). Pietro doesn't see what follows as he does what Rogue's closing eyes plead for him to do: he flees (Ch. 7).

_**42 days**_ (6 weeks): RESCUE. Mentioned in prologue. X-Men discover that Rogue has new permanent powers that allowed her to survive the warehouse collapsing on her and prevents Jean and Xavier from reading her mind (Ch. 1).

_**56 days**_ (8 weeks): PROLOGUE. It is revealed that Xavier changed the memories of Bayville inhabitants to make them forget that the X-Men and Brotherhood were the mutants involved in the news broadcast of the giant Sentinel attack.

_**70 days**_ (10 weeks): CHAPTER ONE. Rogue's 1st week back to school. Pietro tries to rescue Rogue from the dastardly Remy, who has so evilly trailed the Queen of Hearts card on her cheek. How horrible of him!

_**72 days**_ (10 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER TWO. Logan flashes back on his memories of the rescue, prompting him to confront Rogue about helping more with the reconstruction of the institute. Surprise, she's been avoiding using many of her new powers because she'd killed those whom she'd stolen them from.

_**84 days**_ (12 weeks): CHAPTER THREE. Sleepless Pietro confronts Gambit outside the mansion. Gambit gives him advice wishes him luck with Rogue.

_**85 days**_ (12 weeks and 1 day): CHAPTER THREE. Rogue skips out of the overcrowded breakfast and ends up being confronted by Scott. She explains how she hides her constant floating/flying, to keep from getting caught. Rogue/Pietro locker and lake scenes. Wanda tells Pietro he's without honor.

_**87 days**_ (12 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER THREE. Gambit slices the tarp to sneak into Rogue and Kitty's room to watch Rogue sleep. He uses his spatial (kinesthetic) sense and empathic (charm) abilities as a way to 'touch' her. Rogue pretends he didn't wake her. Logan bursts in, missing Gambit. Smell's fresh blood on Rogue, but doesn't know it's because she popped a bone claw out ala Wolverine. Gambit left a card with a note on it (see Ch. 4) for her.

_**90 days **_(12 weeks and 6 days). News report/interview with non-mutant Dr. Moira McTaggert of the Muir Island Research Center catches Xavier's attention.

_**91 days **_(13 weeks): CHAPTER FOUR. Xavier, Logan & Hank meet with Moira McTaggert, who, to inspire faith in her so they could work out a trade of services, gives them guaranteed contact to Jean-Luc for the hiring of a thief to track down some of Trask's files. Rogue and Pietro skip school and spend the afternoon on the mansion's reconstruction by themselves. Pietro throws a fit when he finds the card from Gambit. Fred gives Rogue the Hope Chest. Gambit again waits futilely in Spades for Rogue, who doesn't show (Gambit's note on the card he gave her in Ch. 3). Pietro begins camping outside the Institute to watch for Gambit sneaking into Rogue's room (Ch. 7).

_**98 days**_ (14 weeks): Gambit waits for Rogue at Spades, but she doesn't show (Ch. 6/7). Pietro is on his seventh night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**105 days**_ (15 weeks): Gambit waits for Rogue at Spades, but again she doesn't show (Ch. 6/7). Pietro is on his fourteenth night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**112 days**_ (16 weeks): CHAPTER FIVE. Gambit decides to only wait one more week for Rogue to show up at Spades (stage and spotlight references to standing in the cones of light on the street waiting for his leading lady to show). In remembrance, Rogue runs into Evan on her way to reveal the problem with her legs and chicken's out (Ch. 5). Pietro is on his twenty-first night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**115 days**_ (16 weeks and 3 days): Rogue attempts to, but chicken's out about telling the team about her legs again, this time after running into Fred (Ch. 5). Pietro is on his twenty-fourth night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**118**_ days (16 weeks and 6 days): CHAPTER FIVE. Rogue freaks out while trying to tell the team about her legs and Hank sedates her to calm her. She remembers several events that took place while she was imprisoned: meeting Dr. Milbury, meeting Trask, absorbing Logan and Carol, learning that Gambit worked for Dr. Milbury, being suspended in the open cylinder. She wakes from sedation during Wrestling Night (unofficial Thursday Family Night) and is plagued by the red-on-black numbers of her clock into going to meet Gambit at Spades the following night. So much so, that she stumbles downstairs to avoid them, and facing everyone, on impulse, shows them her dilemma with her legs. Psyche-Emma meets Psyche-Carol in Rogue's mindscape. Xavier calls the Guild and leaves the message as directed by the card Moira gave him (Ch. 6). Pietro is on his twenty-seventh night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**119 days**_ (17 weeks): CHAPTER FIVE, SIX and SEVEN. Rogue makes the team a southern dinner as thanks (Ch. 5). She brings a packed serving of the dinner to Pietro, who is on his twenty-eight night of camping outside the institute to 'observe Gambit's stalker-like visits' (Ch. 7). Rogue goes to Spades; Pietro (rendered telepathically invisible by Rogue) goes along to support her and prove he's not a complete, unrepentant jerk (Ch. 6). Though Gambit is there, they do not speak or directly interact (Ch. 6). Gambit leaves when the Guild calls him to inform him that Xavier has made initial contact via Moira's boon (Ch. 6). After flashbacking to the failed prison escape (see day 23), Pietro embraces Rogue, who permits him to, and sways to the music, vowing not to run again (Ch. 7).

_**120 days**_ (17 weeks and 1 day): Xavier finds a card left by a Guild member (Gambit, though they don't know that yet) on his desk to coordinate a direct meeting (Ch. 6).

_**123 days**_ (17 weeks and 4 days): CHAPTER SIX. News broadcast of the video of the Sentinel attack undoes Xavier's sacrifice (erasing the memories of Bayville). As a result, Xavier makes the final call to the Guild from the card left three days prior. Gambit is who meets him, and does so by sneaking in to prove his skills.

_**124 days**_ (17 weeks and 5 days): CHAPTER SIX. Hank McCoy plans to speak at a Bayville public meeting regarding the American mutant situation.

* * *

_Thank you for reading and reviewing._


	9. Chapter 08 Enamel

**Callous**

**Chapter 08 – Enamel**

Kitty chewed on her lip.

A flat lick of the brush left a sticky trail of blushing pink. Another came along side it, closer than brothers or sisters. Not quite so much as lovers, but lovers of a sense to mark them as friends. Soon the available space was filled.

Kitty fought her giggles.

The brush dipped, collected its color, its blush, and the stroke moved one finger over. In a matter of moments, the third nail was painted as well.

Bobby didn't fare as well as Kitty. He erupted with laughter when Kurt's tail twitched, swatting at the most recently painted nail. The blushing pink nail polish gummed his fur. That was more than Bobby could resist.

Bobby picked up the painted hand and the gummed tail and swung them around, mocking a coy dance. He faked a bad feminine soprano, singing, "I feel pretty, oh so pretty..."

The rest of them busted out in laughter.

"Vas ist das?" The German accent was unmistakable, even when sluggish with sleep. Their answering silence was no shelter, though.

"Heh..." Bobby dropped Kurt's hand and tail. And ran!

Bamf! Kurt was practically on top of him, but behind him.

Bamf! He was gone, not in back, but in front, and on top of the fountain statue. And he was holding something up.

Kitty blushed, but cracked a grin, as did Rahne, Jubilee and Sam. Roberto, Jamie, Ray were snickering. Bobby was shocked... and a bit confused.

High above his head, Kurt was waving a pair of Spiderman underwear above his head like it was a flag and he'd just landed on the moon [1].

Crash!

Something large came flying out of one of the second story windows.

"Kurt!" Kitty yelled the warning.

It was heading straight for Kurt.

Bamf!

The kids all scattered, Kurt porting back near where several of them had scattered too, just a mere five feet from the dresser that now sat smashed on the lawn in front of the statue fountain. Clothing spilled from the dresser, littering the grass surrounding the now broken dresser. Several pink and baby blue under things were among the clothing.

"At least mine aren't the only ones on display," Bobby said and laughed.

Another loud bang and Rogue flew out the same window that dresser had come from. A blushing Kitty gave chase, yelling, "That was _my_ dresser, Rogue!"

They gave chase and found Rogue, fuming, near the pool, at a bench along the bordering woods.

Rogue spun around when she heard them close in on her. She seemed to be kneeling on the seat and leaning on the back of the bench, but to a closer observer, it was obvious she was hovering in the position. Her face was red with anger as she yelled, "Ah told 'em Ah couldn't do it. Ah've showed alla ya'll Ah can't do it. But do they listen? No! He just has ta push it. 'Again, try again, Rogue,' he tells me, gettin' all huffy like Ah got control ovah it." She turns towards a particular window in the mansion, one from which Xavier just happened to be watching her. "Ah told ya, didn't Ah? Ya didn't find anything!"

The others caught up and looked up to the window that Rogue was yelling at, finding Xavier there, thoughtful and concerned. Below the window, three figures, having exited through the back door of the Institute, moved across the patio and lawn towards Rogue.

"All that telepathy and ya can't even figure it out, can ya?" Rogue continued yelling at Xavier. "Can't even tell what Ah'm thinkin' now, can ya?"

"Maybe not," Logan said as he approached, cautiously, like he would to a wounded animal, "But I bet it ain't nice."

Jean and Scott were following behind Logan, jogging from the back door. They had all just come from a Danger Room session designed for figuring out the problem with Rogue's legs.

"Rogue, calm down," Jean said as they reached Rogue and the others. "Lashing out like this won't help anyone. You know that."

"We're just trying to help," Scott added, stating the obvious.

Like Jean and Xavier and all the others, Scott was at a loss. Nothing they had tried so far revealed any reasons or solutions to solving the problems with Rogue's legs. All their tests proved that there was nothing physically wrong with them. There were no currently broken bones or torn or strained ligaments. She was in possession of Logan's healing powers and as such, her body was in impeccable health. The strength she'd gained from Carol Danvers was present in her legs. She could operate exercise equipment of all types beyond the weight limits the school's equipment offered, save for the ones that required her to be standing. The bottom line was that her legs were in perfect health; she just couldn't stand or walk on them. And as such, they were inclined to believe that the problem was not a physical one, but a psychological/mental one. Xavier believed, and Jean and Hank conceded that the fault lie in the complications of the personalities of those she absorbed while under Trask's captivity and Dr. Milbury's tender mercies in scientific experimentation.

Rogue rose from the bench, maneuvering swiftly, but gracefully to face Scott up close. They weren't more than a few feet from the rows of trees that began the woods.

"All ya are doin' is shovin' how messed up Ah am in mah face." Each word was growled, but clearly punctuated.

"That ain't true, Ro—" Logan began. Nobody noticed that he cut himself off and began sniffing the air.

Scott obviously didn't noticed. Scowling, and a bit hurt by the accusation in Rogue's words, Scott said, "I would never do that to you. None of us would. The Professor thought—"

"Stuff it, Scott," Rogue snapped. "Ah know what Xavier thought." She looked to Jean and said, "Ya'll might not be able to read mah thoughts, but Ah can't help but read most of yours [2]. Professor may have taught ya how ta shield your thoughts Jean, but ya can be real lazy in a house full of non-telepaths. Even you got a habit of forgettin' Ah got some of mah own now too." Rogue narrowed her eyes on Jean. A mongoose eyeing its prey. "Don't worry, Jean, Ah'm well aware of the fulitlity of mah crush on Scott."

Jean looked shocked, like someone had read her diary, and Rogue zeroed in for the punch.

"At least until Ah can touch again."

Jean frowned, but steeled herself against Rogue's harsh words. She understood that Rogue was just angry and hurt and feeling trapped. Still, it did sting a bit. As confident and self-assured as Jean was, she was not immune to jealousy, even when unwarranted. She knew Scott only cared for Rogue as a close friend, but his dedication to helping solve Rogue's current problems did sometimes make her wonder if Scott would indulge deeper feelings for Rogue if Rogue's touch was no longer deadly.

"That was uncalled for, Rogue," Scott said.

Rogue turned a saddened glance to Scott, sighed in defeat, and said, "Ah know it, Scott. We all know it. Even if Ah could touch, ya wouldn't evah be interested someone like me."

Scott extended a sympathetic hand to her. "Rogue, I do care for you. You are a special—"

Rogue waved off the rest of his sentence. She didn't want to hear it. It was too much like a consolation prize. Besides, more recent experiences had confirmed how wrong she had been about her feelings for him. Sure, she cared for him. But, it was hardly more than a crush, romantically speaking. He had been the first guy to show her kindness and friendship and real acceptance despite her mutant powers... And he did have that killer baseball player's body and that shy, boyish charm thing going for him. Who could blame her?

"Don't bothah, Scott. Ah'm not devastated with heartbreak." A smirk tugged the corners of her lips up as she thought of another person whose charms had an even more powerful effect on her. "Sides, Ah've got other prospects anyway," she added, turning to face the woods behind her, "Isn't that right, swamp rat?"

A low chuckle proceeded Remy from the woods behind them. "Just prospects, chère?"

Skint! Logan's claws cut through the air in front of Remy's nose as his other hand tugged Remy's head back by the scruff of his shaggy hair. The others had been so caught up in the drama with Rogue that they hadn't noticed Logan sniffing around the edge of the woods.

"Been sneakin' around here a lot lately, haven't ya?" Logan menacingly asked Remy.

Remy never even blinked an eye at Logan, but kept his flirtatious grin targeted on Rogue as he said, "Mind callin' off y' watchdog, Rogue?"

"Let him go, Wolvie," Rogue said, approaching the two. "He's harmless."

"He's one of Magneto's new goons."

"He's also mah friend," Rogue said assertively.

"C'est vrai, Remy just came here t' visit de belle femme."

"That right, Gumbo?" Logan said, yanking back on Remy's head.

"She be worth it, non?"

Rogue shifted so her face veiled her slight blush at his words.

"That why ya broke into Xavier's office?" Logan asked brusquely. His next words were to Rogue, "Sorry, stripes, but I think he's really doin' a job fer Magneto."

"Remy?" Rogue questioned. As much as Rogue wanted to believe that Remy genuinely cared for her in that way, she still had doubts. After all, it's hard to believe that someone like him, someone as suave and flirtatious with women, would give up touch for her.

Remy gave Logan a venomous look. Threats to his person, he could handle. Threats to his family, threats to damaging the trust he'd been working so hard at earning from Rogue, those sorts of things were beyond the line for him.

"I t'ink y' should watch what y' say.... Wolvie," Remy said as he raised a charged card.

_~"That is not necessary, Remy, Logan,"~_ Xavier, still watching from the second story window, said to the group, telepathically. _~"If everyone would join me inside, I think perhaps we could clear this all up."~_

Logan growled, but retracted his claws and released Remy. Talking amongst themselves, they all made their way inside.

Remy ignored how Logan, distrusting, stayed by his side. He bowed and extended a chivalrous hand to Rogue. "Shall we, chère?"

Rogue regarded him skeptically, asking, "Ya for real, Remy?"

"One li'l kiss, chère, and y'll know for sure," he answered wickedly with a wink.

Rogue scowled and retorted, "Ah'd rather have your word."

A nod of respect and understanding, then Remy said, "Remy's word it is then."

"Quit stalling," said Logan as he gave Remy a shove at his back.

_~"Oh, and Logan?"~_

_~"Yeah, Chuck?"~_

_~"I am expecting another visitor. Please refrain from threatening her if you could."~_

_~"Long as she comes to that gate and rings the bell, I won't have a reason to."~_

_

* * *

  
_

_"See what I mean?" Emma asked Carol._

_"..."_

_"What is it now?"_

_"I'm just not sure she meant to harm us."_

_A haughty huff and Emma said, __"She stole our lives from us, Carol. I trusted her. You trusted him. They are both working together for baldy."_

_"But she isn't working for that man Magneto or Milbury or Trask."_

_"But she is close with the speedy one. That is her link to Magneto. And your betrayer is her link to all the others."_

_"I'm still not convinced."_

_"You're kidding me!"_

_"If I could see for myself—"_

_"I've already shown you."_

_"And that's part of the problem, Emma. I've only seen what you've shown me. Why is it I can't see what's going on without your help?"_

_"I told you. It's something to do with my telepathy."_

_"But, you also told me you no longer had that ability."_

_"A lot of things aren't easy to explain, Carol. For instance, you're insubstantiality. You can't even feel your own limbs, let alone see them, for crissakes!" A long pause. A breath to steady her frustration, then, __"You'll just have to take my word for it. What other choice do you have?"_

_"I'd still rather see for myself."_

_"Well, I'd like to be alive and in my own body. But that's not going to happen either, now is it?"_

_

* * *

  
_

"Yer trusting him to handle _this_?!" Logan shouted. He was so shocked by what Xavier had just revealed to them that he had nearly leapt out of his seat.

"A lot of people trust Remy wit' exactly dis sort of t'ing, homme," said Remy from where he was leaning on the corner of Xavier's desk. The smug gleam in his eyes expressed his satisfaction that, with Xavier's announcing that he was working for Xavier to search out information on the experiments that Milbury had performed on the captured mutants, he had just stuck it to Logan.

The others were reacting in a much more contained manner than Logan was. To Remy's right, across the room from Logan, Beast as well seemed surprised, yet contemplative. Hank was willing to listen to Xavier's full explanation before arguing the logic of using one of Magneto's new team members in pursuit of such delicate data. Storm seemed to be taking the same perspective as Beast was. She was serene and thoughtful, sitting calmly beside Beast on one of the couches. Scott—as team leader—and Jean—as the next senior member of the team—were also present. Jean seemed stoic, yet slightly agitated, as she sat in one of the chairs between the two couches. Scott, in the other chair, didn't resist speaking up, though.

"But for what kind of people, Gambit?" Scott asked.

Most of them only knew Gambit by the professional/code name that he introduced himself as at the beginning of this meeting. Only Rogue, Xavier, and Logan, thus far, knew him as Remy, and Logan only knew it because he'd heard Rogue use it as they were heading inside.

"The kind who require discretion," Gambit said smoothly. He wasn't embarrassed by whom he worked for or associated with. He may have not been proud of some of the outcomes, by some of the things that obligation had trapped him into, but he was not ashamed by his profession.

"Is that a polite way of saying criminals, fanatics, and outlaws like Magneto?" Scott countered.

"And what are all of y'? What do de people in dis town t'ink of y' now dat y' secret is out?"

"That's different and you know it," Scott said, though his tone lacked much of its previous strength.

The truth was, all of the students were having a hard time in school since the broadcast was leaked again in Bayville. It had only been two days, but the tide of hate was already in motion. Principal Kelly's prejudice was shown blatantly at Bayville High School. Just today, Ray, after being targeted by bullies, was suspended for fighting. The bullies received no punishment. In fact, the parents of those who incited Ray were threatening to sue the school if policies to protect their children from dangerous, out of control mutants were not instituted.

Through all of this, Rogue, who was sitting beside Logan per his protective arrangement, was eerily quiet and blank faced. Well, blank faced for her. She still wore her commonly seen scowl, as she was torn between the logic of her friends and teammates, her feelings for Remy, and her concern that Remy had never told her he was working for Xavier. It seemed an important bit of knowledge to her. But, for the time being, she was determined to trust his word.

"Not according ta most folks," Rogue said, siding with Remy... sort of. "We know we aren't what they all say we are. But, they are the majority here, Scott."

"That may be true, Rogue," Storm spoke up, "However, perception does not constitute fact."

"My concern, and I would expect yours as well, Professor," Hank said, "is that our association to more sinister—" Remy covered his cringe at that word "—and nefarious factions by way of young Gambit, if somehow made public, would do little to improve our reputation. It would more likely corroborate the fears and misgivings about our kind and this institute in particular."

"I see your point, Hank," Xavier said from where he sat behind his desk, "And I gave that very theory as well as many others the consideration they deserved when making my decision to employ him in this very important endeavor. But, the fact remains that we were at the end of our rope on this. Even your contacts, Logan, gave us no significant results. We need to know exactly what went on under Trask and Milbury's authorization so that we can treat the long term injuries to our students."

They all avoided looking to Rogue, though everyone knew that it was her dilemma that most immediately necessitated the quick retrieval of the records. There were more extended reasons, of course. For the sake of all the mutants that had been experimented on, and for the prevention of further situations of that ilk, they needed to know what had occurred, why it had occurred, and the end goal that Trask and Milbury were seeking. So, no, all of this was not just for Rogue's benefit. But, if they could find something to help determine the cause of Rogue's legs not working properly, it would be the enamel gloss on a priceless vase.

Xavier then closed his eyes in concentration, a signal that he was using his telepathy. A moment later, he opened his eyes and said, "Excuse me, it seems our other _expected_ visitor has finally arrived. Storm, could you let Moira and her companion in and invite them to join our discussion."

"Certainly, Charles," Storm said as she rose.

At the mention of Moira's name, realization dawned on Hank then and, with a gesture to Gambit, he asked, "He is the boon she offered?"

Xavier's simple response was an eloquent nod.

"Mon père, actually, mes amis," Remy said with a light-hearted grin. "We are all friends now, non?" He looked over the group, pointedly ending with Logan, then said, "My friends call me Remy LeBeau."

"Prince of the New Orleans Thieves Guild," Moira said as she entered. She went immediately to Remy and gave him a friendly hug. "How are ye, Remy?"

Remy shrugged. "Been better, been worse, mais de view improved when y' showed up."

"Still the charmer, aye?" Moira asked, teasing him. "Ye always did have the devil's sweet tongue, lad. It's good tae see ye, too."

"Use a thief to catch a thief," Beast mused with a chuckle as he recited what Moira had told them at their first meeting.

"You're a professional thief?" Scott, shocked, asked.

"Oui," Gambit said.

Moira widened her eyes in mock surprise. "Modesty, Remy? Ye turnin' scoob on me?" She gave the occupants a sly examination. "Or are ye working a lass?" [3]

Rogue scoffed. Logan huffed.

"Y're givin' away Remy's technique, Moira."

"I think she's already on tae ye," Moira said and winked at Rogue.

"Down right transparent," Rogue said.

Moira nodded and smiled. She already knew she was going to like Rogue. "So, Charles, are ye going tae introduce?"

And with that, the trade had begun.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

[1] That was a little homage to Disturbed Courtney and Lilith K's incredible, wonderful, and hilarious story, Twisted Christmas, the X-Men Way.

[2] Rogue accidentally revealed that she also now possessed telepathy in Chapter 5. It was during the scene where she freaked out while trying to tell/show them about her legs and Hank gave her a sedative to calm her. She confirmed it later that same evening when she finally got her confession out and asked for their help.

[2] Scottish slang: scoob = teacher's pet, goody-two-shoes, etc.

* * *

**TIME LINE**

**- **_**14 days**_ (2 weeks before DoR). Magneto briefs Remy, Piotr & St. John on the Brotherhood and X-Men members (Ch. 3, Pietro's memory). Pyro asks if Rogue's power is to imitate the dead (I love that!).

_**0 days**_**:** DAY OF RECKONING. 1st news broadcast of mutants. Rogue, Logan, Fred, and Hank are captured by the Sentinel and held as prisoners in Trask's Institution (research labs).

_**3 days**_**:** RAID ON THE INSTITUTE. Described briefly in prologue.

_**5 days**_: Fury sends Carol undercover at Trask's installation.

_**8 days**_ (1 week and 1 day): Rogue convinces the prisoners to pass their blankets to Fred resulting in punishment from the guards: forcing an unconscious Logan's claws to pierce a collared Fred's skin and the winking guard (Renfield, Ch. 5) to break Rogue's legs (Ch. 4). Fred kept a shard of glass from the Dr.'s glasses, broken in Rogue's struggles (Ch. 4).

_**9 days**_ (1 week and 2 days): Remy meets Carol and they both try to play each other for information (Ch. 5).

_**10 days**_ (1 week and 3 days): Rogue refuses the doctor's many attempts to treat her festering broken legs (Ch. 5). Rogue first glances Dr. Milbury (though they do not speak to each other) while the more familiar doctor whispers to Fred (Ch. 5).

_**11 days**_ (1 week and 4 days): Guards stop feeding Rogue; Fred shares his with her, exactly what they wanted to happen (Ch. 5). After giving the winking guard the nickname Renfield, Dr. Milbury formerly introduces himself to Rogue and informs her that Fred told them her name and powers, well, that she absorbs psyches (Ch. 5).

_**16 days**_ (2 weeks and 2 days): Dr. Milbury catches Carol and Remy sharing information (Ch. 5).

_**23 days**_ (3 weeks and 2 days): With Trask in attendance, Dr. Milbury tests the ratio of touch-time to retention-time when Rogue, suspended in an open cylinder, absorbs Logan, strung up by his hands, in order to weigh the possibility that Rogue could survive the adamantium bonding process (Ch. 5). Dr. Milbury reveals his agreement with Trask: Sentinels provide mutant research subjects in trade for progress on the bonding process (Ch. 5). Gambit reports to Dr. Milbury that the assault on the Morlocks is complete and Rogue discovers that they work together (Ch. 5). Rogue absorbs Carol Danvers (Ch. 5), who survives, though is technically brain-dead (Ch. 6). Dr. Milbury plans to use Rogue to create an army of multi-powered soldiers (Ch. 6). Remy is nearly crushed by Rogue's cylinder while trying to save her (Ch. 6). Magneto's new team attacks Trask's installation (Ch. 7). Magneto unknowingly uses Rogue's cylinder to pummel a squadron of guards (Ch. 7). Gambit and Rogue, collared, are taken away, and followed by Pietro, who snatches Rogue and tries to flee, but Rogue convinces him to help her try to free the imprisoned mutants (Ch. 7). Splitting up, Pietro sets loose one of the cellblocks, but Rogue runs into trouble (Ch. 7). Pietro and Emma try to stop guards taking aim on Rogue, but fail, and Rogue is taken down (Ch. 7). Pietro doesn't see what follows as he does what Rogue's closing eyes plead for him to do: he flees (Ch. 7).

_**42 days**_ (6 weeks): RESCUE. Mentioned in prologue. X-Men discover that Rogue has new permanent powers that allowed her to survive the warehouse collapsing on her and prevents Jean and Xavier from reading her mind (Ch. 1).

_**56 days**_ (8 weeks): PROLOGUE. It is revealed that Xavier changed the memories of Bayville inhabitants to make them forget that the X-Men and Brotherhood were the mutants involved in the news broadcast of the giant Sentinel attack.

_**70 days**_ (10 weeks): CHAPTER ONE. Rogue's 1st week back to school. Pietro tries to rescue Rogue from the dastardly Remy, who has so evilly trailed the Queen of Hearts card on her cheek. How horrible of him!

_**72 days**_ (10 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER TWO. Logan flashes back on his memories of the rescue, prompting him to confront Rogue about helping more with the reconstruction of the institute. Surprise, she's been avoiding using many of her new powers because she'd killed those whom she'd stolen them from.

_**84 days**_ (12 weeks): CHAPTER THREE. Sleepless Pietro confronts Gambit outside the mansion. Gambit gives him advice wishes him luck with Rogue.

_**85 days**_ (12 weeks and 1 day): CHAPTER THREE. Rogue skips out of the overcrowded breakfast and ends up being confronted by Scott. She explains how she hides her constant floating/flying, to keep from getting caught. Rogue/Pietro locker and lake scenes. Wanda tells Pietro he's without honor.

_**87 days**_ (12 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER THREE. Gambit slices the tarp to sneak into Rogue and Kitty's room to watch Rogue sleep. He uses his spatial (kinesthetic) sense and empathic (charm) abilities as a way to 'touch' her. Rogue pretends he didn't wake her. Logan bursts in, missing Gambit. Smell's fresh blood on Rogue, but doesn't know it's because she popped a bone claw out ala Wolverine. Gambit left a card with a note on it (see Ch. 4) for her.

_**90 days **_(12 weeks and 6 days). News report/interview with non-mutant Dr. Moira McTaggert of the Muir Island Research Center catches Xavier's attention.

_**91 days **_(13 weeks): CHAPTER FOUR. Xavier, Logan & Hank meet with Moira McTaggert, who, to inspire faith in her so they could work out a trade of services, gives them guaranteed contact to Jean-Luc for the hiring of a thief to track down some of Trask's files. Rogue and Pietro skip school and spend the afternoon on the mansion's reconstruction by themselves. Pietro throws a fit when he finds the card from Gambit. Fred gives Rogue the Hope Chest. Gambit again waits futilely in Spades for Rogue, who doesn't show (Gambit's note on the card he gave her in Ch. 3). Pietro begins camping outside the Institute to watch for Gambit sneaking into Rogue's room (Ch. 7).

_**98 days**_ (14 weeks): Gambit waits for Rogue at Spades, but she doesn't show (Ch. 6/7). Pietro is on his seventh night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**105 days**_ (15 weeks): Gambit waits for Rogue at Spades, but again she doesn't show (Ch. 6/7). Pietro is on his fourteenth night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**112 days**_ (16 weeks): CHAPTER FIVE. Gambit decides to only wait one more week for Rogue to show up at Spades (stage and spotlight references to standing in the cones of light on the street waiting for his leading lady to show). In remembrance, Rogue runs into Evan on her way to reveal the problem with her legs and chicken's out (Ch. 5). Pietro is on his twenty-first night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**115 days**_ (16 weeks and 3 days): Rogue attempts to, but chicken's out about telling the team about her legs again, this time after running into Fred (Ch. 5). Pietro is on his twenty-fourth night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**118**_ days (16 weeks and 6 days): CHAPTER FIVE. Rogue freaks out, inadvertently revealing that she also possesses the additional power of telepathy, while trying to tell the team about her legs and Hank sedates her to calm her. She remembers several events that took place while she was imprisoned: meeting Dr. Milbury, meeting Trask, absorbing Logan and Carol, learning that Gambit worked for Dr. Milbury, being suspended in the open cylinder. She wakes from sedation during Wrestling Night (unofficial Thursday Family Night) and is plagued by the red-on-black numbers of her clock into going to meet Gambit at Spades the following night. So much so, that she stumbles downstairs to avoid them, and facing everyone, on impulse, shows them her dilemma with her legs. Psyche-Emma meets Psyche-Carol in Rogue's mindscape. Xavier calls the Guild and leaves the message as directed by the card Moira gave him (Ch. 6). Pietro is on his twenty-seventh night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**119 days**_ (17 weeks): CHAPTER FIVE, SIX and SEVEN. Rogue makes the team a southern dinner as thanks (Ch. 5). She brings a packed serving of the dinner to Pietro, who is on his twenty-eight night of camping outside the institute to 'observe Gambit's stalker-like visits' (Ch. 7). Rogue goes to Spades; Pietro (rendered telepathically invisible by Rogue) goes along to support her and prove he's not a complete, unrepentant jerk (Ch. 6). Though Gambit is there, they do not speak or directly interact (Ch. 6). Gambit leaves when the Guild calls him to inform him that Xavier has made initial contact via Moira's boon (Ch. 6). After flashbacking to the failed prison escape (see day 23), Pietro embraces Rogue, who permits him to, and sways to the music, vowing not to run again (Ch. 7).

_**120 days**_ (17 weeks and 1 day): Xavier finds a card left by a Guild member (Gambit, though they don't know that yet) on his desk to coordinate a direct meeting (Ch. 6).

_**123 days**_ (17 weeks and 4 days): CHAPTER SIX. News broadcast of the video of the Sentinel attack undoes Xavier's sacrifice (erasing the memories of Bayville). As a result, Xavier makes the final call to the Guild from the card left three days prior. Gambit is who meets him, and does so by sneaking in to prove his skills.

_**124 days**_ (17 weeks and 5 days): CHAPTER SIX. Hank McCoy is scheduled to speak at the Bayville public meeting regarding the American mutant situation.

_**129 days**_ (18 weeks and 3 days): CHAPTER EIGHT. The students prank each other: Kitty paints Kurt's nails pink and Kurt teleports Bobby's Spiderman underwear loose to wave them like a flag. Rogue, in the middle of a tantrum, throws Kitty's dresser through the window and onto the lawn. After failing to find any physical causes to the problem with her legs, Xavier and Jean persist in telepathic therapy, which also isn't working, thus further frustrating Rogue. Gambit shows up, formally meeting the X-Men, who distrust his role in procuring Milbury and Trask's files from the imprisonment. Moira also arrives to witness the success of her boon (Remy's involvement), and immediately guesses Remy's alternative motive for succeeding in helping the X-Men (that being his interest in Rogue). Inside Rogue's mindscape, Emma cites the current events in her attempts to persuade Carol that Rogue purposely imprisoned them in her mind. Earlier in the day, Ray got suspended in an uneven scale of punishment after being involved in a brawl with other non-mutant students.

* * *

**Author's Note:** What exactly is the trade? What has Remy retrieved so far? How will Pietro react to Remy's new role with the X-Men?

* * *

_Thank you for reading and reviewing._


	10. Chapter 09 Turret

**Callous**

**Chapter 09 – Turret [1]**

"Yeah, they're in there with him now," Kitty said over the phone.

"But why is he there? Is he joining up with you guys or something?" Lance asked.

"I don't know. The Professor only wanted to meet with them. I guess he'll fill us in later."

"Think it could be a set up or something?"

"Do you think? I mean, that would totally suck. If he's using Rogue and all..."

"Yeah, I think we should keep this from Pietro for now. Just in case."

"Keep what from me, Lance?"

Lance looked up and saw Pietro chewing on an apple and leaning nonchalantly in the doorway. There was an angry glimmer in his eyes.

"I gotta go, Kitty. Pietro just heard me."

"Oops. Sorry. Well, good luck."

"Yeah, I'll need it. Talk later. Bye."

"Bye, Lance."

Lance hung up the phone and ran a tired hand through his hair.

"So, what is it?" Pietro asked, containing his anger.

He was getting tired of having to still prove himself to them. When they accepted him back into the house, they didn't really forgive him as he'd hoped. Pietro was thinking they only let him back in so they could keep an eye on him. Sort of like the saying, 'keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.' Like it did them any good before.

"First, promise me that you won't run straight to the Institute and start a fight."

That got Pietro's attention. He moved his weight off the doorway, preparing to do just what Lance asked him not to.

"Just tell me," Pietro told him.

A sigh, then, "Let's get everyone together. They all should hear this."

* * *

"Some of dis stuff isn't pretty, mes amis," Gambit said in all seriousness as he motioned to everyone in the room. "Sure y' want everyone watching?"

"We're not leaving ya in here alone with the Professor," Logan said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't trust ya, and I don't like how friendly ya are with the doc. So, quit stalling and show us what ya got, Gumbo."

"Look, pup," Gambit said, earning him a raised brow from Logan for the nickname. He pulled out a video for Logan and the others to see and said, "People on dis tape might not like an audience watching dis." He held up a disk. "De technical stuff, de t'ings on dis disk, gonna be bad enough. But y' doc here has t' know so he can take proper care of de kids. But dis—" he held the video up again, his eyes straying briefly to Rogue then back to Logan before he continued, "—Dis made Remy t'row up his dinner."

Logan furrowed his brow. He hadn't thought of that.

Xavier cleared his throat, lowering the tension and drawing attention to him. "Perhaps Gambit has a point, Logan. But, I must ask, why did you bring it if you thought the students on it would object to our watching it? Were you not supposed to bring us back tangible evidence from Dr. Milbury's treatment of them as proof to your continuing usefulness to us _and_ proof of Dr. McTaggert's claims?"

Gambit slid the disk across the desk to Xavier. "Dis is de proof y' asked for. Mais, de video, Dieu, it has some key answers. I'd call it a bonus, 'cept it's not'ing y'd be pleased t' see."

"And how they gonna like knowing ya saw it?" Logan snapped as he stood. He poked a finger at Gambit's chest, and added, "At least we're their friends. For some, the only family they have."

"How else was I know supposed to figure out which ones had anyt'ing useful t' y' on dem," Remy said, heat in his words to match the heat in his burning orbs.

"Everyone just remain calm," Xavier said, trying to mediate them. He knew Wolverine wouldn't react positively to Remy, but he didn't expect them to clash quite so much. It was another problem added to his already long list of problems.

Storm rose to her feet, her wisdom exhibited in her tone as she said, "Why don't you tell us who is on the video and give us enough of a description so that we can ask them who of us they would permit to see it?"

"All of dem," Gambit said. "X-men and de Brotherhood guy... and ot'ers."

Storm swallowed her gasp. She was hoping desperately that Evan wasn't on it. She controlled her emotions, but she had to sit down again in order to hear the rest.

Logan grimaced. He couldn't remember any time where he was in the same room with Rogue, Fred, Evan, and Hank all at the same time. Other than being in their cells in the cellblock, of course. But, then again, he was drugged so much while he was there that he didn't remember a lot of what happened.

Hank was puzzled. His thoughts were much along the same lines as Logan's.

Gambit looked to Rogue for her reaction. She was clammed up, though, showing nothing but grim resolve.

"Dere's about two, two and a half days of footage, compressed," Gambit explained. "It's from sometime during de week before y' escaped."

Logan and Hank were wracking their brains but couldn't remember anything so horrific they would refuse to let the Professor see it.

"It's the slabs," Rogue spat venomously. She was pissed off that they didn't remember. She didn't want to be mad that they were allowed the unique bliss of their ignorance, but, at the same time, she thrived in it. She had a whole jumble of hot and cold feelings on the subject. Even though she knew they had the right to know, she was glad they had forgotten the horrors, had been able to move on without the taint of their memories. She was angry that she remembered more than they did and yet, conversely, she was angry for not remembering everything on top of it.

"I'm afraid I have no knowledge of such a place," Beast said.

"Ya weren't there much, Hank. Ya were lucky on that." The last part was very quiet. She looked to Logan, explaining, "It's where we escaped from, right at the end."

"I don't remember much," Logan admitted with annoyance. "They kept us drugged most of the time."

"That is, as they say, an understatement," Hank mildly added. "I doubt we will be of much help in deciding what could be seen without seeing it for ourselves first. Not an altogether pleasant thought, if what Gambit here suggests is true, but perhaps necessary."

Scott spoke up. "Could each of them only watch the part that they are on?"

Gambit thought about it then shook his head. "Non, not really. A few parts, maybe. Mais, it's not singled out like dat, y' know?"

"Would you mind if the others on the tape saw it?" Xavier's question was obviously directed at Logan, Hank, and Rogue.

"Don't see how much of a choice we have," Logan said and shifted in discomfort. That was as much of an assent as he would give.

"Unfortunate, but true," Hank said. "I agree to it as well."

They looked to Rogue, who scowled.

"What do ya think, Remy?" She asked. "Are the answers worth it?"

Varying silent responses of surprise filled the room. Rogue's deference to him implied an intimate trust between them. As far as they knew Rogue wasn't that friendly with anyone. She never let anyone get that close to her. They all wondered, _why him?_

"Oui, Rogue," Gambit replied.

The look he gave Rogue when he said it was so tender it made Logan want to snarl.

Rogue bit her lip, thinking it over, then said, "All right. But just us at first."

"Well then," Xavier said. "If you are up to it, why don't you look over the video now while I familiarize myself with the disk."

Jean got up, pulling Scott with her, and said, "We'll call the brotherhood."

Storm followed them out, saying, "I'll get Evan."

As they left, Logan held his hand out for the video. Gambit smirked, and to rile Logan, handed it to Rogue instead. Rogue took it, but rolled her eyes at the macho display that Remy and Logan were putting on.

* * *

Lance observed the collected rag-tags from his position just inside the kitchen, where he was sipping coffee and gathering his reserve for what he had to tell them.

Tabitha was sprawled on the torn, musty love seat, with one leg dangling over the right armrest, the other hung up over the back of it, and her head lying back over the left armrest. She popped her gum in her usual bored manner.

Todd was crouched on the floor as near to Wanda as she would let him, his attention switching from Lance, in curiosity, to Wanda, to whom he gave the goofiest, lovelorn grin. Todd been shoved and smacked and badmouthed by her for his doting too many times for Lance to count. Lance had to give the little toad credit for his diligence and fortitude.

Wanda, leaning in the doorway leading to the hall, was vainly ignoring Todd. It was poorly done, if the twitch in the left side of her scowl was any indication. Pietro was nearly a mirror image of his twin, by way of how he leaned against the wall near the front door. Both had that twitch of annoyance to their lips. Both looked ready to bolt at any moment. Both had arms crossed indignantly and tapped one out-jutted foot. Besides their looks, the next biggest difference between them was the speed in which they tapped. Wanda's was a slow, calculated rhythm, off beat, sort of, so that it made Lance want to snap and exclaim, _just tap it already_! Pietro, on the other hand, tapped away in maddening impatience.

The last of their motley group, Fred, took up nearly the entire couch all by his lonesome. His expression though, bore no resemblance to loneliness. He seemed content, even if he seemed confused for Lance's abruptly called house meeting. Lance had been holding these 'house meetings' since Fred was returned to them. Pietro, though, only believed they were because of him. A mixture of arrogance and perceived lack of trust in him on the brotherhood's part formed Pietro's reasoning.

Another sip of coffee, and then Lance sighed. While the others were being called downstairs to the living room, he had received another phone call. This one was from Jean.

Lance put down his coffee cup. He then grabbed two chairs from the kitchen table and brought them into the middle of the living room. "Pietro, Wanda, can you two actually join in on this," Lance said, setting the two chairs between the couch and the broken television. It was as far from the all the doors as possible.

"Just tell us, already, Lance," Pietro said.

"Just sit down already, Pietro," Lance mocked.

"..."

"..."

"..."

Bubble gum pop!

Tummy rumble.

Fwwwip! Gulp! Burp! Stare.

"Fine," Wanda said.

Reluctantly the two left their posts. It was obvious Lance wasn't going to talk until they did. Fred moved over to one end of the couch, presumably to make room if one of the twins wanted to sit there. Speedy took the bait and sat on the couch. It was nearer the door than the two chairs Lance had brought in.

It was just as Lance, with all the others' help, had planned.

The moment Pietro sat, two beefy hands landed on his skinny arm. Todd landed, bounding from a single leap onto the back of the couch, and held Pietro in place with a hand atop each shoulder. Tabitha's grasp caught Pietro's other arm, and she sat on the arm of the couch for better leverage against him. Wanda smirked as she poised her fingers toward him, ready to snap a hex bolt at him upon the slightest provocation.

"Let me go!" Pietro protested.

"No," Lance said. "Now sit still, listen up, and hear this out, before you going running off half-crazed with jealousy."

"Gambit," Pietro ground out from gritted teeth. "What's he done?"

"Something none of us have been able to," Lance said. _...And now for the bomb..._ "And because of that, he's playing house at the Institute right now."

"WHAT?!"

They almost lost their hold on him. Not from his strength, he was a skinny little thing after all, but from the speed with which he tried to free himself. Newton's 2nd Law says that Force equals Mass times Acceleration (F = ma). What Pietro lacked in size he made up for in acceleration. Unfortunately for Pietro, they had the improbable turned possible on their side because of Wanda's powers.

Speedy wasn't going anywhere for the moment.

"Go on, Lance," Wanda said, readying another hex. "We've got him."

Pietro was slewing every curse he could think of at them... and every warning. Lance knew it all, already. They all did. They didn't really listen to what he said, since, well, in his angered state, he spoke too fast for them to understand anyway. So, Lance waited him out, till he was panting, tired, yet his body pinged like a tuning fork from his rage.

"You done?" Lance asked.

Pietro didn't answer. He made no sign of affirmation or objection. Lance simply took his lack of response to mean something like '_just spit it out and get it over with so you'll finally let me go and I can pummel you and then pummel that slimy Cajun.'_

"Gambit was hired to steal information and evidence about Trask and Milbury and the experiments." Lance paused, letting that sink in.

"And?" Pietro gritted out. Lance had paused too long.

"And he found it. Not everything, but a lot."

"Mighty convenient of him," Todd quipped.

"He even got video."

"Like I said, yo, convenient."

"He's right," Tabitha admitted. "He was working two sides during all that. Why not now be working a third side?"

"My-point-exactly-so-let's-go-get-him." Obviously, Pietro's speedy speech.

"Like you're one to talk," Wanda snapped.

"We _are_ going over there, Pietro," Lance said. That really got their attention. They didn't expect Lance to agree with Pietro about that. "Well, Fred is, at the very least. Well, unless you don't want to, big guy."

"Huh? Why me?"

"You're on the video. It was Jean that called a minute ago. She said that what's on it is bad enough that you need to decide if it's okay for Xavier, and some doctor he's got there, to see it."

"The slabs," Fred said quietly, and then went stock-still. If Pietro tried to get away right then, he would've gotten right by Fred and Fred wouldn't have even noticed.

"I don't know what's on it, Fred," Lance said. "But, they suggested it'd be a good idea if you and the others viewed the it first."

"I'll go with if you want," Todd offered, laying a comforting hand on Fred's shoulder.

Fred slowly turned a grateful expression to Todd. "I'd like that, Todd."

"Well, I'll go, but I don't want to see it," Tabitha said, then shivered. She also let loose her hold of Pietro in the process. "No offense, Blob. Movies are one thing, but when it's people I know... I don't want to see it."

"Wanda?" Lance asked.

"There ain't no way I'm missing this," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "All of us, the X-Men, Gambit, and a torture flick—there's a recipe for entertainment if I ever heard one." She cocked a brow at Pietro. "Especially if split-second-boy could be on the losing end."

"We'reallagreed,good,great,seeyouallthere." And he was gone.

They looked from one to another.

"Heh, heh... oops." Gum popped.

Lance sighed. "Come on, then, let's go."

* * *

Moira asked, "The trade?"

"Ahh, yes, that," Xavier answered. His hesitation and reluctance showed clearly in his tone, a sign that he was very stressed and tired.

He and she were alone in his office now. The others were off eating dinner, Moira's companion (a man Xavier had yet to meet) included.

The sun was near to setting. Under other conditions, he may have thought it gave the room a warm glow, like the color of the crust on fresh baked bread, right out of the oven, with cheddar melting on the top. The atmosphere of the situation proposed between the two of them, however, had him thinking of a potter's fiery oven instead.

He had so much responsibility. All of them were his to protect, to train, and to prepare. …So much responsibility.

"Well?" Moira asked. "I did nae fly all this way tae be dilly-dallied about. Out with it, already. What're yer limits?"

Xavier smiled. Despite the trickiness of this deal, the cost if he chose wrong, and the disastrous potential truths of her goals and intentions, he couldn't help but to like her. There was something refreshing in her bluntness. After all the politics and double-talk that'd been going around lately, he was grateful for her ways.

"Hank McCoy is a biologist," Xavier explained. "He has some medical training beyond that as well—"

"So he could help me?" She seemed overjoyed by this prospect.

"You don't object?"

Yes, he could've read her mind and answered his own question without leaving any room for doubt, but he was very reluctant to do so, to break his ethics again. What he'd done to the members of their community made him sick to his stomach. He was too tempted to do it again.

"Why would I?" She leaned forward. She was all no-nonsense. "Look, Charles. I am nae interested in negotiating. I will taeke whatever research ye will allow me ta. And if ye have someone ye trust that's qualified ta help me, I'm all for it. Neither of us wants me here any longer than necessary." She shoved back into the chair, ready for business. "That said, what are yer limits?"

If she wanted it straight out, he'd give it to her straight out.

"No surgical procedures," Xavier said. "Blood samples, physicals, and anything else that's non-intrusive, are acceptable. Tissue samples, only after McCoy and I have approved on a case-by-case basis. And it will take a great deal to convince me of it. Also, you are to do nothing if the student protests. Not even take his or her temperature."

"Anything else?"

"Not that I've thought of. I'll let you know, though, if I think of anything."

"I wouldnae expect anything less."

"And for this access, you will turn over everything you have come across regarding my students in the medical research community?"

"Aye," Moira nodded. "That and more. I'll tell ye where tae get more of it."

"With Gambit's help..." Xavier was finding it hard to release his trepidation.

"How ye go about getting it is yer business, Charles. I'll give ye the connections I can. The rest is up ta ye."

He sat back, thinking it over. "Why are you giving up so much for so little in return? What can you learn from some physicals and blood tests that would equate what you are giving me?"

"How many mutants do ye see banging down my door ta let me study them, Charles? Huh? Most are in hiding, especially now. I won't go tae the lengths that Milbury goes tae. I can't. I may nae be the least abrasive woman, but, I couldnae stomach doing the things I've read about in some of his reports. I'm nae too sure ye'll be thanking me after ye see them for yeself."

"Still... Your risk is greater than your gain."

Moira shook her head. "I don't know what else tae say or do tae convince ye. Do I stay or do I go? It's up tae ye at this point."

Xavier closed his eyes and listened in on the thoughts that the students let out freely. It was just exactly what they were saying aloud, things on the forefront of their thoughts, things that were not hidden in the least. Most of them were so happy right then. They felt safe within the walls of the Institute. It was supposed to be their safe haven. Yet, it was not impenetrable. They all were aware of that. Many of the students still often felt discontent and nervous... worried to a degree that had Xavier immensely unsettled.

He sat like that for minutes, just listening. It eased him a bit that they were so carefree and open with their thoughts so much of the time when they were on the Institute's grounds. There were some exceptions, of course. Jean was difficult to read, due to her need to control her own powers. She had to shield most times, like Xavier himself, just to keep from always hearing the surface thoughts of others, and those shields worked both ways. Logan was hard to read as well. Much of his memory was mush from the experiments that left him with the metal lacing his bones. Mush was mush, even to a telepath of Xavier's caliber.

Gambit had disturbingly strong shields. Not the shields of a telepath, but the shields of someone trained to protect themselves from telepathy. Xavier was both repelled and intrigued by Gambit's shielding skills. He offhandedly wondered if Gambit could help teach the students how to develop shielding of their own.

The only other person who shielded as strongly as Gambit was Rogue. But Rogue's was different. She didn't seem to be able to let anyone in if she wanted to. It could've been from some sort of shock. It could've been from some aspect of the telepath she'd absorbed or simply a side effect of so thoroughly absorbing so many mutants. Whatever it was, it was most definitely from some phenomenon that took place during the experiments she went through.

And Rogue wasn't the only one with lingering problems from the imprisonment. Evan was having difficulty with controlling his bone growths. Hank still wasn't able to pinpoint the specific reason for it, let alone to come up with a solution. He'd been too often cloistering himself up in the medlab, searching and searching to discern biological solutions to the problems of Rogue and Evan. Fred didn't seem to have any lingering physical problems. But, he was still coping. He was making the most progress of those that had been captured. Still, it wasn't enough. Xavier had begun to worry that the sessions weren't making near enough progress on their psychological stability.

Not near enough.

He and Hank couldn't do it alone.

He looked to Moira. She seemed eager, but patient. There was no challenge in her gaze, just genuine interest and resolve there.

"Stay," he told her. "Tread slowly, Moira. We've all been through too much to take too many risks—especially within our own home. You're going to have to earn their trust, and it won't be easy. I can assure you of that much, if nothing else."

"Genetics doesn't just deal with biology, Charles. Their psychology is part of my study. In that, I could use yer help as well."

Xavier nodded, thankful.

"So, we are in agreement?" He asked feeling surprisingly more relieved than he thought he'd be at this point in their meeting.

A small stronghold was being formed, a small turret that was shelter, a stable landing from which they could attack opposition. This gamble was in his favor. He could feel it. And he was glad for it.

"Agreed," Moira said. She stood and reached her hand out in offer to shake his. They shook hands, then she clapped her hand on his shoulder and said, "Smashing, now let's eat. I'm starved and I want ye tae meet Sean."

Halfway to the first turn in the hall, a... noise erupted. It vibrated the walls and floors. Xavier would've assumed that Lance was the cause, had not the sound accompanied the vibration. It was a sound that Xavier could not fathom he'd ever heard before. A scream, but not quite. A train whistle, but yet... human made. And there was an edge to it, like with that of a dog whistle... some part of it that was beyond the human spectrum of hearing.

Oh... and it was loud. Very, very loud.

Xavier and Moira clutched their ears, to no avail. When it finally ceased, he looked to Moira. She had a bit of a sheepish grin splitting her face.

"Sean, I presume?" Xavier asked her.

"Aye, 'tis Sean," she said, her grin broadening. "Got a good set of lungs, he does."

Xavier laughed for the first time in a while. And it felt good.

* * *

**Next: Chapter 10 – Cellophane**

They watch the tape. Pietro confronts Gambit at the Institute.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

[1] Turret, _n_. 1) a small tower, usually one forming part of a larger structure. 2) a small tower at an angle of a building, as of a castle or fortress, frequently beginning some distance about the ground. 3) a dome like structure, usually revolving horizontally, in which a gun is mounted, as on an armored vehicle, ship, or aircraft. 4) Also called a turret-head, a pivoted attachment on a lathe or the like for holding a number of tools.

* * *

**TIME LINE**

**- **_**14 days**_ (2 weeks before DoR). Magneto briefs Remy, Piotr & St. John on the Brotherhood and X-Men members (Ch. 3, Pietro's memory). Pyro asks if Rogue's power is to imitate the dead (I love that!).

_**0 days**_**:** DAY OF RECKONING. 1st news broadcast of mutants. Rogue, Logan, Fred, and Hank are captured by the Sentinel and held as prisoners in Trask's Institution (research labs).

_**3 days**_**:** RAID ON THE INSTITUTE. Described briefly in prologue.

_**5 days**_: Fury sends Carol undercover at Trask's installation.

_**8 days**_ (1 week and 1 day): Rogue convinces the prisoners to pass their blankets to Fred resulting in punishment from the guards: forcing an unconscious Logan's claws to pierce a collared Fred's skin and the winking guard (Renfield, Ch. 5) to break Rogue's legs (Ch. 4). Fred kept a shard of glass from the Dr.'s glasses, broken in Rogue's struggles (Ch. 4).

_**9 days**_ (1 week and 2 days): Remy meets Carol and they both try to play each other for information (Ch. 5).

_**10 days**_ (1 week and 3 days): Rogue refuses the doctor's many attempts to treat her festering broken legs (Ch. 5). Rogue first glances Dr. Milbury (though they do not speak to each other) while the more familiar doctor whispers to Fred (Ch. 5).

_**11 days**_ (1 week and 4 days): Guards stop feeding Rogue; Fred shares his with her, exactly what they wanted to happen (Ch. 5). After giving the winking guard the nickname Renfield, Dr. Milbury formerly introduces himself to Rogue and informs her that Fred told them her name and powers, well, that she absorbs psyches (Ch. 5).

_**16 days**_ (2 weeks and 2 days): Dr. Milbury catches Carol and Remy sharing information (Ch. 5).

_**23 days**_ (3 weeks and 2 days): With Trask in attendance, Dr. Milbury tests the ratio of touch-time to retention-time when Rogue, suspended in an open cylinder, absorbs Logan, strung up by his hands, in order to weigh the possibility that Rogue could survive the adamantium bonding process (Ch. 5). Dr. Milbury reveals his agreement with Trask: Sentinels provide mutant research subjects in trade for progress on the bonding process (Ch. 5). Gambit reports to Dr. Milbury that the assault on the Morlocks is complete and Rogue discovers that they work together (Ch. 5). Rogue absorbs Carol Danvers (Ch. 5), who survives, though is technically brain-dead (Ch. 6). Dr. Milbury plans to use Rogue to create an army of multi-powered soldiers (Ch. 6). Remy is nearly crushed by Rogue's cylinder while trying to save her (Ch. 6). Magneto's new team attacks Trask's installation (Ch. 7). Magneto unknowingly uses Rogue's cylinder to pummel a squadron of guards (Ch. 7). Gambit and Rogue, collared, are taken away, and followed by Pietro, who snatches Rogue and tries to flee, but Rogue convinces him to help her try to free the imprisoned mutants (Ch. 7). Splitting up, Pietro sets loose one of the cellblocks, but Rogue runs into trouble (Ch. 7). Pietro and Emma try to stop guards taking aim on Rogue, but fail, and Rogue is taken down (Ch. 7). Pietro doesn't see what follows as he does what Rogue's closing eyes plead for him to do: he flees (Ch. 7).

_**42 days**_ (6 weeks): RESCUE. Mentioned in prologue. X-Men discover that Rogue has new permanent powers that allowed her to survive the warehouse collapsing on her and prevents Jean and Xavier from reading her mind (Ch. 1).

_**56 days**_ (8 weeks): PROLOGUE. It is revealed that Xavier changed the memories of Bayville inhabitants to make them forget that the X-Men and Brotherhood were the mutants involved in the news broadcast of the giant Sentinel attack.

_**70 days**_ (10 weeks): CHAPTER ONE. Rogue's 1st week back to school. Pietro tries to rescue Rogue from the dastardly Remy, who has so evilly trailed the Queen of Hearts card on her cheek. How horrible of him!

_**72 days**_ (10 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER TWO. Logan flashes back on his memories of the rescue, prompting him to confront Rogue about helping more with the reconstruction of the institute. Surprise, she's been avoiding using many of her new powers because she'd killed those whom she'd stolen them from.

_**84 days**_ (12 weeks): CHAPTER THREE. Sleepless Pietro confronts Gambit outside the mansion. Gambit gives him advice wishes him luck with Rogue.

_**85 days**_ (12 weeks and 1 day): CHAPTER THREE. Rogue skips out of the overcrowded breakfast and ends up being confronted by Scott. She explains how she hides her constant floating/flying, to keep from getting caught. Rogue/Pietro locker and lake scenes. Wanda tells Pietro he's without honor.

_**87 days**_ (12 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER THREE. Gambit slices the tarp to sneak into Rogue and Kitty's room to watch Rogue sleep. He uses his spatial (kinesthetic) sense and empathic (charm) abilities as a way to 'touch' her. Rogue pretends he didn't wake her. Logan bursts in, missing Gambit. Smell's fresh blood on Rogue, but doesn't know it's because she popped a bone claw out ala Wolverine. Gambit left a card with a note on it (see Ch. 4) for her.

_**90 days **_(12 weeks and 6 days). News report/interview with non-mutant Dr. Moira McTaggert of the Muir Island Research Center catches Xavier's attention.

_**91 days **_(13 weeks): CHAPTER FOUR. Xavier, Logan & Hank meet with Moira McTaggert, who, to inspire faith in her so they could work out a trade of services, gives them guaranteed contact to Jean-Luc for the hiring of a thief to track down some of Trask's files. Rogue and Pietro skip school and spend the afternoon on the mansion's reconstruction by themselves. Pietro throws a fit when he finds the card from Gambit. Fred gives Rogue the Hope Chest. Gambit again waits futilely in Spades for Rogue, who doesn't show (Gambit's note on the card he gave her in Ch. 3). Pietro begins camping outside the Institute to watch for Gambit sneaking into Rogue's room (Ch. 7).

_**98 days**_ (14 weeks): Gambit waits for Rogue at Spades, but she doesn't show (Ch. 6/7). Pietro is on his seventh night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**105 days**_ (15 weeks): Gambit waits for Rogue at Spades, but again she doesn't show (Ch. 6/7). Pietro is on his fourteenth night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**112 days**_ (16 weeks): CHAPTER FIVE. Gambit decides to only wait one more week for Rogue to show up at Spades (stage and spotlight references to standing in the cones of light on the street waiting for his leading lady to show). In remembrance, Rogue runs into Evan on her way to reveal the problem with her legs and chicken's out (Ch. 5). Pietro is on his twenty-first night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**115 days**_ (16 weeks and 3 days): Rogue attempts to, but chicken's out about telling the team about her legs again, this time after running into Fred (Ch. 5). Pietro is on his twenty-fourth night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**118**_ days (16 weeks and 6 days): CHAPTER FIVE. Rogue freaks out, inadvertently revealing that she also possesses the additional power of telepathy, while trying to tell the team about her legs and Hank sedates her to calm her. She remembers several events that took place while she was imprisoned: meeting Dr. Milbury, meeting Trask, absorbing Logan and Carol, learning that Gambit worked for Dr. Milbury, being suspended in the open cylinder. She wakes from sedation during Wrestling Night (unofficial Thursday Family Night) and is plagued by the red-on-black numbers of her clock into going to meet Gambit at Spades the following night. So much so, that she stumbles downstairs to avoid them, and facing everyone, on impulse, shows them her dilemma with her legs. Psyche-Emma meets Psyche-Carol in Rogue's mindscape. Xavier calls the Guild and leaves the message as directed by the card Moira gave him (Ch. 6). Pietro is on his twenty-seventh night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**119 days**_ (17 weeks): CHAPTER FIVE, SIX and SEVEN. Rogue makes the team a southern dinner as thanks (Ch. 5). She brings a packed serving of the dinner to Pietro, who is on his twenty-eight night of camping outside the institute to 'observe Gambit's stalker-like visits' (Ch. 7). Rogue goes to Spades; Pietro (rendered telepathically invisible by Rogue) goes along to support her and prove he's not a complete, unrepentant jerk (Ch. 6). Though Gambit is there, they do not speak or directly interact (Ch. 6). Gambit leaves when the Guild calls him to inform him that Xavier has made initial contact via Moira's boon (Ch. 6). After flashbacking to the failed prison escape (see day 23), Pietro embraces Rogue, who permits him to, and sways to the music, vowing not to run again (Ch. 7).

_**120 days**_ (17 weeks and 1 day): Xavier finds a card left by a Guild member (Gambit, though they don't know that yet) on his desk to coordinate a direct meeting (Ch. 6).

_**123 days**_ (17 weeks and 4 days): CHAPTER SIX. News broadcast of the video of the Sentinel attack undoes Xavier's sacrifice (erasing the memories of Bayville). As a result, Xavier makes the final call to the Guild from the card left three days prior. Gambit is who meets him, and does so by sneaking in to prove his skills.

_**124 days**_ (17 weeks and 5 days): CHAPTER SIX. Hank McCoy is scheduled to speak at the Bayville public meeting regarding the American mutant situation.

_**129 days**_ (18 weeks and 3 days): CHAPTER EIGHT and NINE. The students prank each other: Kitty paints Kurt's nails pink and Kurt teleports Bobby's Spiderman underwear loose to wave them like a flag (Ch. 8). Rogue, in the middle of a tantrum, throws Kitty's dresser through the window and onto the lawn (Ch. 8). After failing to find any physical causes to the problem with her legs, Xavier and Jean persist in telepathic therapy, which also isn't working, thus further frustrating Rogue (Ch. 8). Gambit shows up, formally meeting the X-Men, who distrust his role in procuring Milbury and Trask's files from the imprisonment (Ch. 8). Moira also arrives to witness the success of her boon (Remy's involvement), and immediately guesses Remy's alternative motive (that being his interest in Rogue) for succeeding in helping the X-Men (Ch. 8). Inside Rogue's mindscape, Emma cites the current events in her attempts to persuade Carol that Rogue purposely imprisoned them in her mind (Ch. 8). Earlier in the day, Ray got suspended in an uneven scale of punishment after being involved in a brawl with other non-mutant students (Ch. 8). Xavier and Moira agree on the details of their trade (Ch. 9). Remy gives Xavier a disk containing medical and other records of the prisoners in Trask's installation as well as surveillance video of the last couple days leading up to the final rescue (Ch. 9). Pietro overhears Kitty and Lance on the phone and bullies Lance into telling them what is going on at the mansion (Ch. 9).

* * *

_Thank you for reading and reviewing._


	11. Chapter 10 Cellophane

**Callous**

**Chapter 10 - Cellophane**

The remote control sat untouched on the coffee table.

Hank McCoy put the video into the player, then went and sat on a large fluffy chair on the far left of the room. He adjusted his glasses. Logan, near snarling, stared at the television. He was leaning against a thick, hard pillar behind but more center of the room than where Hank sat. Evan took up the other fluffy chair on the far right of the room. He was spinning the wheels of his skateboard, which lay upside down across his lap. Rogue sat in a straight back wooden chair. It was as stiff as she was, though her pretzel impersonation contradicted the long narrow lines of the chair. Her arms were crossed. Her legs were crossed. Everything about her seemed to be tied in knots. Fred occupied the couch. He sat in the center, daring anyone to join him on it. He was half way through a candy bar, but suddenly lost his appetite. He spat what was half chewed into the wrapper. He folded the wrapper over the exposed candy and tossed it onto the coffee table directly ahead of him.

The candy knocked the control off the coffee table.

Hank adjusted his glasses.

Logan huffed.

Rogue scowled.

Evan spun the skateboard wheel.

Fred swallowed saliva. It wasn't quite a gulp. His mouth was fairly dry.

"A bunch of spineless..." Logan grumbled as he stalked up in front of the coffee table and picked up the remote. He stomped half way back to his post before he reached back to click it on and toss the controller back onto the table.

Hank didn't adjust his glasses.

Logan only turned around after he reached the post and leaned on it again.

Evan didn't spin the wheel.

Rogue still scowled, but she did look more like a knot than a pretzel.

Fred's mouth got drier, hanging a little open as it was.

The video was already playing and nobody wanted to rewind the two minutes they'd missed.

* * *

Kitty leaned on her mop handle. She blew her bangs out of her eyes, but the hair didn't budge. Then she wiped it with her forearm.

"Ick," Kitty said, realizing how sweaty she was. That was why she couldn't just blow the bangs out of their annoying position. The hairs had been plastered to her damp forehead.

She surveyed the remaining mess and leaned more heavily on the mop handle.

"Oomph!" she squealed as the mop jerked out from under her. A breeze, which she surprisingly welcomed, despite her frustration with its creator, marked Pietro's shift to her other side.

"Tired already, X-Geek?" Pietro sniped and snickered.

Kitty lunged at him, but he sped off... taking her mop with him. "Ugh! Why do I even have to help clean this mess up? I didn't even help make it."

"You are too clean, aren't you?" Bobby asked from behind her. He had been gathering trash on the other side of the dining room and was heading out to dump it for the second time.

Kitty looked over her still pristine, though sweaty, outfit. She grinned. "Ever mention how much I like my power?"

Then Bobby dumped the trash on her. Sure, she phased as soon as she realized what was happening, but it was too late. She had already been splattered by the messy remains of the food fight they were currently in the process of cleaning up. She could've phased the mess off her, but as she looked around, she felt a sort of camaraderie in being as dirty as the rest of them, despite the annoyance of having to help clean up. She admitted to herself that it had been kind of fun getting into this predicament. She half-wished she had been more involved in the making of it.

Tensions had been high when they'd all sat down for dinner that evening. Rogue, Logan, Hank, Storm, and Remy (who was apparently rooming at the mansion now) were all as quiet as plucked guitar strings in the vacuum of space. The absence of the Professor and that doctor chick they'd seen on the news was noticed with sharp curiosity. The doctor's companion, though seemingly amicable enough, was obviously uncomfortable with being in a room full of people he didn't know. The kids all tried keeping to their own hyper conversations, but the morose mood of the others infected them. Slowly, the conversations died out almost completely. That's when Rogue excused herself. The Cajun tried to follow her, but was stopped by Logan's hand on his shoulder.

"The thing with Rogue is ya can't try to force her too hard," Logan had grumbled to him.

Everyone had paused, rather shocked to hear Logan giving Remy such sound advice. Until, that is, Logan finished.

"And even then," Logan said, continuing with a slight growl, "_You_ aren't the one fer her ta talk to."

Remy's brows shot up at that. "An' who is? You? A little old fer de petite don't y' t'ink?"

"Watch yer mouth, Gumbo," Logan said as he shoved Remy, who stumbled back towards the wall. '_She's like a daughter to me_' was left hanging in the air. "Just you remember she's got a couple years before she's legal in this state."

Gambit never collided with the wall, though. Out of nowhere, Gambit's body shifted direction and sped sideways along the wall a good fifteen feet. Everyone was shocked and confused until Gambit slammed into the adjacent wall. The stopped motion revealed the cause of Gambit's strange movement. A furious, heaving young man with silver hair loomed over Gambit's crumpled form. Pietro had arrived and he wasn't happy.

"Not another drama," Amara had muttered in complaint as many of the others jumped in to break them apart.

Most hesitated, unsure of whose side to be on for sure. Pietro and Gambit both had been their enemies. Neither of them were members of the X-Men. There was an unlikely, edgy alliance, but even that had never been fully defined.

Then Bobby or Ray—Kitty wasn't sure which—yelled, "Get 'em!" and everyone... well almost everyone jumped in. Evan had merely lowered his head, shoulders hunched, like this added disturbance was just too much added weight for him to bear. Fists and flashes of powers whirled around him for a short while. Then he'd left, just as Rogue had, before the entire fight had turned into its silly completion.

He didn't know it until later, but the scuffle turned into a food fight of the most humorous heights.

* * *

Security video, even top of the line, was often without sound. The one that Gambit had pilfered from Milbury and Trask's installation wasn't an exception to that. It was, unfortunately, in full color, and extraordinarily focused, or so it seemed to the watchers. The view was from above, probably a forty-five degree angle, and encompassed the majority of the room. Three walls could be seen, though the shelves, cabinets, and counters along the edges of the room were vaguely blurry due to their distance from the camera. The beds, or rather, the slabs—as Rogue and the others had termed them—were in clear view.

Rogue was on one of the center slabs. She was awake, though evidently drugged. She was watching all the activity in the room with a hateful slurred glare.

Two slabs over, Logan was strapped down, awake, but apparently sedated. His expression was relaxed; limbs lethargic. A needle with a darkened tube stretching from it pierced his right arm. The tube led to a machine, which had a second dark tube stretching from it to the left arm of a woman on the slab beside him. The woman had blonde hair. Of the assembled group, Rogue and Logan were the only people who recognized her. It was the same woman Rogue had been forced to absorb when Magneto and his group had attacked the installation by surprise.

One doctor was beside the heart monitor at the head of the blond woman's bed. The heart monitor, though it was hard to see, registered a single flat, unbroken green line. She had no heart beat. She was assuredly dead. The doctor jotted in his clipboard, turned off her heart-monitor, and then walked away from her like she was nothing more than a med-school cadaver.

* * *

Three other mutants died in Milbury's tests within the first half-hour of watching the video. It didn't take watching all three deaths for Hank to realize what Milbury was trying to determine. It was a theory Hank had pondered from time to time, but never dared to truly consider testing. Milbury tested it. And he did so with a cold and curious demeanor.

Milbury had performed blood transfusions on five, now-dead mutants. They all received blood from Logan. One lived. Hank figured the survivor was the only person who had a blood type compatible with Logan's. The four they witnessed die on the tape, did so, apparently, of massive heart attacks. The doctors there did nothing to intervene. They merely took sterile notes and then walked on to the next one. Hank, though disgusted by the experiments, figured it was probably in the victims' favor that they suffered the heart attack. Several fatal repercussions stemmed from improperly matched blood transfusions. None of them were painless. Few were quick. Others merely allowed the victim to live on as a vegetable.

In seeing the test subjects die, Hank learned what Milbury and the other doctors learned. Logan's blood didn't heal others. If it had, it would've overcome the clashing blood types and the test subjects wouldn't have died.

* * *

As they were removing the body of the blond woman Rogue had been forced to absorb, they noticed her heartbeat faintly on the machine. Bemused, Milbury had her remain. No assistance to ensure her life was performed. One of the doctors got assigned the task of checking her vitals and drawing and testing some blood and tissue samples to make note of any changes in accordance with alternative readings on her heart and brain monitors.

Well, the watchers of the tape didn't know that for sure. But it seemed safe to assume as much when they saw one of the doctors occasionally check on her.

* * *

After that first series of tests, Logan was removed and other unrecognized mutants went through series of painful tests. The strange surgeries performed on them perplexed even Hank. As far as he could discern, most of the surgeries while Logan was gone from the room were much like anatomical studies, like sections of an autopsy on living beings. Before stitching each of the test subjects up, one of the doctors dumped in a bunch of tiny little objects—beads that were so small and slippery they poured like liquid. It wasn't a very large amount, only a small vial full for each subject, but it wasn't any substance known to Hank. As far as Hank knew, there weren't very many things that could be left inside a living being that wouldn't possibly cause fatal infections or trauma amongst the internal organs. Then again, there wasn't any reason they should assume that the substance was beneficial. The doctors, Milbury especially, seemed fairly unconcerned about the safety of his patients beyond living long enough to complete his tests.

Two of the mutants to undergo that procedure were Fred and Evan.

Watching this shocked all of them, mostly Evan and Fred. Neither of them remembered having any scars for what they saw happening to them. To be sure, Evan lifted his shirt to check. Finding no sign of the incisions or stitches or anything, he looked to Fred, who confirmed he'd never seen anything on himself either with a shake of his head. Evan looked back at Dr. McCoy, who gave an understanding nod, signifying he'd look into it after watching the video.

On the screen, Evan and Fred's turn was up. They were removed without any more ceremony than the others and two more were brought in and subjected to the same thing. Then two more. And two more after that. The procedure was quicker with every turn. It was like Ford's famous assembly line, only more grotesque.

Finally, halfway through a turn, they stopped. Rogue's awakening interrupted the procedures. As soon as coherence settled into her she began thrashing about and yelling things that those watching the video couldn't hear. Even in that prone situation she was still struggling.

Seeing her awake, Milbury made gestures that led the gaggle of doctors to cease their other works. They shoved the other experiments aside again like they were nothing more than med-school cadavers. But they weren't. Many were still alive, drugged, sober, cut open, half-stitched, and now ignored. Rogue was Milbury's primary focus and all else was dropped for whatever thing they next had prepared for her.

* * *

She was fighting the solid bindings at her arms, legs, and head, to no avail. Dr. Milbury inserted a needle into Rogue's arm. A tube was attached to it. Logan was brought in, sedated, collared—which is when those watching the tape realized that Rogue wasn't collared—and placed on the slab directly beside her. A second doctor was inserting a needle, a mirrored twin to Rogue's, into Logan's arm. One of the other doctors picked up a clipboard and took rapid notes as Milbury operated machinery that the tubes were connected to. Both doctors backed away, and watched intently.

The occasional whir of Evan's spinning skateboard filled in for the missing hum of the machine.

The tube darkened where it attached to Logan's needle. The darkness spread, quick because it was time-lapse video, through the tube, through the machine, into three jars, and up the tube leading to Rogue.

In frightened anticipation, Hank thought, _Rogue and Logan are not the same blood type._

Rogue, on the video, went still. Her mouth was a stern thin line. Her brows were knitted together. Her eyes were fierce, yet frightened as they followed the trail of the darkness nearing the needle inserted into her arm.

_Rogue and Logan don't have compatible blood types._

Just as the darkness reached Rogue's needle, Rogue clenched her eyes and fists.

Hank's mind raced. His understanding of what he was seeing on the video piqued due to his scientific knowledge. _When blood types mix incorrectly, the blood clots. Heart attack, aneurysm, or stroke can result._

Rogue's mouth throttled open in a silent scream. Her back bucked up off the slab. Neither Doctor made any move toward her. They didn't even seem all that concerned. They seemed totally sterile—unemotional observance—while Dr. Milbury seemed fascinated in a menacing way. The longer it went on the more Rogue's body thrashed in her restraints. The image played out for about half a minute, and on time-lapse video, minutes were hours, condensed.

Hank flicked his gaze from the video to Rogue, who tried to ignore him. She didn't need telepathy to know he was thinking, "_but you're still alive_."

On the video, Rogue's body fell back onto the slab. A strange stillness settled in her limbs. Her chest rose rapidly, though, still, with labored, panting breath. Then, three bone claws sprung from each of Rogue's hands.

Milbury, hideously giddy, grinned. It was better than he thought. Her absorption ability wasn't just limited to her skin, but was active in her blood stream as well.

_Makes sense_, Hank thought as he watched the tape, _the average body, mutant or non-mutant, is more susceptible to absorbing nutrients, medicines, and infections, etc. through the blood stream than through the skin. _It suddenly seemed strange that he and Xavier never considered that possibility of Rogue's powers on their own.

With renewed vigor, Milbury directed the gaggle of doctors to more frenzied tasks. They scurried around the slabs looking like little white mice solving puzzles in a maze. The irony of it, the lunacy of it, the cringe-worthiness of it wasn't lost on those watching the video from the distanced safety of time and the wealth of comfort of the homey mansion. Several of the watchers stole glances at Rogue, curious and worried of her reaction. But she seemed to take no notice of them. Or at least she tried to seem as such. She stared straight at the screen with intensity as pricking and sharp as hot razor tipped needles.

On that screen, Milbury personally drew her blood. He then held the vial of it up in the light, so it appeared. His excitement over prospects to come from studying it was evident in his expression as he looked at the thick, slick, slithering blood in the vial, which he held up like a coveted badge for his own glory. Then, with a final parting instruction to one of the other doctors, he left, presumably to personally run tests on that vial of Logan-enriched blood of Rogue's.

The Rogue on the screen, lying prone on the slab, seemed to go even more still. Her breathing became shallow. Her lids lowered, losing their wide-eyed frightened effect, but didn't regain that determined pinch either. Her hand also weren't clenched, adding to her seemingly lethargic appearance. Observation of her posture as she lie there seemed to scream defeat, resignation to her lost cause. Despite that what Fred knew of her behavior during their time there contradicted that appearance, it even looked to him as though she'd simply accepted her fate.

Doctors removed the half-stitched up body from the slab at the far end. Seconds later, according to the time-lapse play out, guards brought in another mutant. This one was almost as fiery as Rogue in spirit, though in a more refined and haughty manor. Her short platinum blonde hair shook with her contained fury and she rattled off words unheard by the watchers of the video.

"Emma," whispered Hank as he watched. His fear for her safety was evident in his voice. His respect for her showed too, as it had been quickly earned when she had tried to help during the attempted cell break during Magneto's attack on the installation.

Two of the guards dragged Emma to the emptied slab and assisted doctors in latching the bindings to hold her down on it. One other guard handed some papers to the doctor left in charge during Milbury's absence. At least, the watchers assumed that. That guard remained when the other two left. The doctor in charge tried to shoo him out, but quickly gave up and left the guard to watch from his self-appointed perch near Rogue's slab.

Wolverine, watching, recognized the woman they brought in as well, just not of her in life. Her tight white clothes brought back vivid flash images of the final moments before they had escaped. If they were seeing her being brought in, then the end was near.

But, it wasn't right. Things were still missing, different, not exact as what he remembered seeing in the lab when he came to during all that commotion of the X-Men trying to break them all out. The blond in the tight white clothing on the end slab was still alive for one. Evan wasn't on any of the slabs, for another. And besides that, Rogue seemed physically all in one piece. It wasn't right. Something was missing.

He turned to Rogue, still impersonating a pretzel, and perhaps she sensed Logan's thoughts as he watched the video, because she turned and met his questioning gaze as well. Perhaps it was just mimicry of what she was doing right then on the video. The Rogue on the tape seemed to recognize the woman brought it, as well she should, for the very same reasons that Hank had recognized her. Upon seeing her strapped in, collared, and being hooked up to the transfusion equipment, the Rogue on the video, prone on the slab, bit her lip and turned away so she wasn't looking at the woman she seemed to hate seeing prepped for experimentation.

Unspoken, Wolverine asked Rogue with his questioning gaze_, "But what about your legs? They were healing from recent injuries on our way out?_"

Rogue said nothing. She just turned back to the tape. What could she say that wouldn't be shown soon enough?

It was all so transparent. She was transparent. Nothing but contrasts of lightness and darkness, intimacies raw and in need of stitching illuminated and projected for an audience's viewing displeasure. They were compelled to watch it, and that urge to see was a horror of its own.

"_Monsters, aren't we all_," Hank thought to himself as he succumbed, continuing watching as well.

* * *

**To be continued in Chapter 11 – Reeling**

_More of what's on the video, Moira's agenda, and tensions between Pietro and Gambit._

_

* * *

  
_

**TIME LINE**

**- **_**14 days**_ (2 weeks before DoR). Magneto briefs Remy, Piotr & St. John on the Brotherhood and X-Men members (Ch. 3, Pietro's memory). Pyro asks if Rogue's power is to imitate the dead (I love that!).

_**0 days**_**:** DAY OF RECKONING. 1st news broadcast of mutants. Rogue, Logan, Fred, and Hank are captured by the Sentinel and held as prisoners in Trask's Institution (research labs).

_**3 days**_**:** RAID ON THE INSTITUTE. Described briefly in prologue.

_**5 days**_: Fury sends Carol undercover at Trask's installation.

_**8 days**_ (1 week and 1 day): Rogue convinces the prisoners to pass their blankets to Fred resulting in punishment from the guards: forcing an unconscious Logan's claws to pierce a collared Fred's skin and the winking guard (Renfield, Ch. 5) to break Rogue's legs (Ch. 4). Fred kept a shard of glass from the Dr.'s glasses, broken in Rogue's struggles (Ch. 4).

_**9 days**_ (1 week and 2 days): Remy meets Carol and they both try to play each other for information (Ch. 5).

_**10 days**_ (1 week and 3 days): Rogue refuses the doctor's many attempts to treat her festering broken legs (Ch. 5). Rogue first glances Dr. Milbury (though they do not speak to each other) while the more familiar doctor whispers to Fred (Ch. 5).

_**11 days**_ (1 week and 4 days): Guards stop feeding Rogue; Fred shares his with her, exactly what they wanted to happen (Ch. 5). After giving the winking guard the nickname Renfield, Dr. Milbury formerly introduces himself to Rogue and informs her that Fred told them her name and powers, well, that she absorbs psyches (Ch. 5).

_**16 days**_ (2 weeks and 2 days): Dr. Milbury catches Carol and Remy sharing information (Ch. 5).

_**23 days**_ (3 weeks and 2 days): With Trask in attendance, Dr. Milbury tests the ratio of touch-time to retention-time when Rogue, suspended in an open cylinder, absorbs Logan, strung up by his hands, in order to weigh the possibility that Rogue could survive the adamantium bonding process (Ch. 5). Dr. Milbury reveals his agreement with Trask: Sentinels provide mutant research subjects in trade for progress on the bonding process (Ch. 5). Gambit reports to Dr. Milbury that the assault on the Morlocks is complete and Rogue discovers that they work together (Ch. 5). Rogue absorbs Carol Danvers (Ch. 5), who survives, though is technically brain-dead (Ch. 6). Dr. Milbury plans to use Rogue to create an army of multi-powered soldiers (Ch. 6). Remy is nearly crushed by Rogue's cylinder while trying to save her (Ch. 6). Magneto's new team attacks Trask's installation (Ch. 7). Magneto unknowingly uses Rogue's cylinder to pummel a squadron of guards (Ch. 7). Gambit and Rogue, collared, are taken away, and followed by Pietro, who snatches Rogue and tries to flee, but Rogue convinces him to help her try to free the imprisoned mutants (Ch. 7). Splitting up, Pietro sets loose one of the cellblocks, but Rogue runs into trouble (Ch. 7). Pietro and Emma try to stop guards taking aim on Rogue, but fail, and Rogue is taken down (Ch. 7). Pietro doesn't see what follows as he does what Rogue's closing eyes plead for him to do: he flees (Ch. 7).

_**35 days**_ (5 weeks) – _**42 days**_ (6 weeks), estimated: AS SEEN ON THE VIDEO. Dr. Milbury kills four mutants while testing blood transfusions from Logan on them (Ch. 10). Carol appears to die from this experiment, but surprisingly again, survives (Ch. 10). During many of the experiments involving surgery, tiny bead like items are poured into the mutants (Ch. 10). Fred and Evan are among these, though they have no memory or physical scar to show for it (Ch. 10). Rogue suffers a blood transfusion from Logan, who's a different blood type and thus should be fatal, but lives (Ch. 10). Claws spring out of her hands, thus proving that her mutation works internally, at least via her blood, and not only with her skin (Ch. 10). Emma is brought in and strapped to the slabs to suffer Dr. Milbury's experimentations as well (Ch. 10).

_**42 days**_ (6 weeks): RESCUE. Mentioned in prologue. X-Men discover that Rogue has new permanent powers that allowed her to survive the warehouse collapsing on her and prevents Jean and Xavier from reading her mind (Ch. 1).

_**56 days**_ (8 weeks): PROLOGUE. It is revealed that Xavier changed the memories of Bayville inhabitants to make them forget that the X-Men and Brotherhood were the mutants involved in the news broadcast of the giant Sentinel attack.

_**70 days**_ (10 weeks): CHAPTER ONE. Rogue's 1st week back to school. Pietro tries to rescue Rogue from the dastardly Remy, who has so evilly trailed the Queen of Hearts card on her cheek. How horrible of him!

_**72 days**_ (10 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER TWO. Logan flashes back on his memories of the rescue, prompting him to confront Rogue about helping more with the reconstruction of the institute. Surprise, she's been avoiding using many of her new powers because she'd killed those whom she'd stolen them from.

_**84 days**_ (12 weeks): CHAPTER THREE. Sleepless Pietro confronts Gambit outside the mansion. Gambit gives him advice wishes him luck with Rogue.

_**85 days**_ (12 weeks and 1 day): CHAPTER THREE. Rogue skips out of the overcrowded breakfast and ends up being confronted by Scott. She explains how she hides her constant floating/flying, to keep from getting caught. Rogue/Pietro locker and lake scenes. Wanda tells Pietro he's without honor.

_**87 days**_ (12 weeks and 2 days): CHAPTER THREE. Gambit slices the tarp to sneak into Rogue and Kitty's room to watch Rogue sleep. He uses his spatial (kinesthetic) sense and empathic (charm) abilities as a way to 'touch' her. Rogue pretends he didn't wake her. Logan bursts in, missing Gambit. Smell's fresh blood on Rogue, but doesn't know it's because she popped a bone claw out ala Wolverine. Gambit left a card with a note on it (see Ch. 4) for her.

_**90 days **_(12 weeks and 6 days). News report/interview with non-mutant Dr. Moira McTaggert of the Muir Island Research Center catches Xavier's attention.

_**91 days **_(13 weeks): CHAPTER FOUR. Xavier, Logan & Hank meet with Moira McTaggert, who, to inspire faith in her so they could work out a trade of services, gives them guaranteed contact to Jean-Luc for the hiring of a thief to track down some of Trask's files. Rogue and Pietro skip school and spend the afternoon on the mansion's reconstruction by themselves. Pietro throws a fit when he finds the card from Gambit. Fred gives Rogue the Hope Chest. Gambit again waits futilely in Spades for Rogue, who doesn't show (Gambit's note on the card he gave her in Ch. 3). Pietro begins camping outside the Institute to watch for Gambit sneaking into Rogue's room (Ch. 7).

_**98 days**_ (14 weeks): Gambit waits for Rogue at Spades, but she doesn't show (Ch. 6/7). Pietro is on his seventh night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**105 days**_ (15 weeks): Gambit waits for Rogue at Spades, but again she doesn't show (Ch. 6/7). Pietro is on his fourteenth night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**112 days**_ (16 weeks): CHAPTER FIVE. Gambit decides to only wait one more week for Rogue to show up at Spades (stage and spotlight references to standing in the cones of light on the street waiting for his leading lady to show). In remembrance, Rogue runs into Evan on her way to reveal the problem with her legs and chicken's out (Ch. 5). Pietro is on his twenty-first night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**115 days**_ (16 weeks and 3 days): Rogue attempts to, but chicken's out about telling the team about her legs again, this time after running into Fred (Ch. 5). Pietro is on his twenty-fourth night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**118**_ days (16 weeks and 6 days): CHAPTER FIVE. Rogue freaks out, inadvertently revealing that she also possesses the additional power of telepathy, while trying to tell the team about her legs and Hank sedates her to calm her. She remembers several events that took place while she was imprisoned: meeting Dr. Milbury, meeting Trask, absorbing Logan and Carol, learning that Gambit worked for Dr. Milbury, being suspended in the open cylinder. She wakes from sedation during Wrestling Night (unofficial Thursday Family Night) and is plagued by the red-on-black numbers of her clock into going to meet Gambit at Spades the following night. So much so, that she stumbles downstairs to avoid them, and facing everyone, on impulse, shows them her dilemma with her legs. Psyche-Emma meets Psyche-Carol in Rogue's mindscape. Xavier calls the Guild and leaves the message as directed by the card Moira gave him (Ch. 6). Pietro is on his twenty-seventh night of camping outside the institute to obverse Gambit's stalker-like visits (Ch. 7).

_**119 days**_ (17 weeks): CHAPTER FIVE, SIX and SEVEN. Rogue makes the team a southern dinner as thanks (Ch. 5). She brings a packed serving of the dinner to Pietro, who is on his twenty-eight night of camping outside the institute to 'observe Gambit's stalker-like visits' (Ch. 7). Rogue goes to Spades; Pietro (rendered telepathically invisible by Rogue) goes along to support her and prove he's not a complete, unrepentant jerk (Ch. 6). Though Gambit is there, they do not speak or directly interact (Ch. 6). Gambit leaves when the Guild calls him to inform him that Xavier has made initial contact via Moira's boon (Ch. 6). After flashbacking to the failed prison escape (see day 23), Pietro embraces Rogue, who permits him to, and sways to the music, vowing not to run again (Ch. 7).

_**120 days**_ (17 weeks and 1 day): Xavier finds a card left by a Guild member (Gambit, though they don't know that yet) on his desk to coordinate a direct meeting (Ch. 6).

_**123 days**_ (17 weeks and 4 days): CHAPTER SIX. News broadcast of the video of the Sentinel attack undoes Xavier's sacrifice (erasing the memories of Bayville). As a result, Xavier makes the final call to the Guild from the card left three days prior. Gambit is who meets him, and does so by sneaking in to prove his skills.

_**124 days**_ (17 weeks and 5 days): CHAPTER SIX. Hank McCoy is scheduled to speak at the Bayville public meeting regarding the American mutant situation.

_**129 days**_ (18 weeks and 3 days): CHAPTER EIGHT, NINE and TEN. The students prank each other: Kitty paints Kurt's nails pink and Kurt teleports Bobby's Spiderman underwear loose to wave them like a flag (Ch. 8). Rogue, in the middle of a tantrum, throws Kitty's dresser through the window and onto the lawn (Ch. 8). After failing to find any physical causes to the problem with her legs, Xavier and Jean persist in telepathic therapy, which also isn't working, thus further frustrating Rogue (Ch. 8). Gambit shows up, formally meeting the X-Men, who distrust his role in procuring Milbury and Trask's files from the imprisonment (Ch. 8). Moira also arrives to witness the success of her boon (Remy's involvement), and immediately guesses Remy's alternative motive (that being his interest in Rogue) for succeeding in helping the X-Men (Ch. 8). Inside Rogue's mindscape, Emma cites the current events in her attempts to persuade Carol that Rogue purposely imprisoned them in her mind (Ch. 8). Earlier in the day, Ray got suspended in an uneven scale of punishment after being involved in a brawl with other non-mutant students (Ch. 8). Xavier and Moira agree on the details of their trade (Ch. 9). Remy gives Xavier a disk containing medical and other records of the prisoners in Trask's installation as well as surveillance video of the last couple days leading up to the final rescue (Ch. 9). Pietro overhears Kitty and Lance on the phone and bullies Lance into telling them what is going on at the mansion (Ch. 9). Pietro attacks Remy and a food fight ensues (Ch. 9). Logan, Rogue, Hank, Evan, and Fred all watch the tape (Ch. 10).

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_Thank you for reading and reviewing._


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